


JonsaSmutWeek

by ALCzysz17



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cousin Incest, Cunnilingus, Different oneshots compiled together, Doggy Style, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Finally finished!!!!, Half-Sibling Incest, Hand Job, Jonsa Smut Week, JonsaSmutWeek Entries, Kinky, NSFW, Sexual Fantasy, Squirting, Vaginal Fingering, jonsa, sex in every chapter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-27
Updated: 2017-12-07
Packaged: 2019-02-07 08:51:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 49,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12837657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ALCzysz17/pseuds/ALCzysz17
Summary: These are my entries for JonsaSmutWeek.Please enjoy!Day 1 - TeasingSum: During a meeting Sansa teases Jon underneath the table.Day 2 - JealousySum: Sansa grows jealous of the female attention Jon suddenly gains from being King in the North.Day 3 - First TimeSum: Nervous about her wedding night to Joffrey, Sansa goes with her father and siblings to see Jon at the wall. Realizations are had and what little relationship she thought she had with him becomes all that more complicated.Day 4 - FantasiesSum: Fantasy: a fanciful mental image, typically one on which a person dwells at length or repeatedly and which reflects their conscious or unconscious wishes. Was it real, or was it all fantasy?Day 5 - Getting CaughtSum: Arya catches a couple partaking in sex.Day 6 - ForbiddenSum: Sansa finds solace in Jon's arms at night where nightmares come for her, things get out of hand when one feels no guilt for the forbidden.Day 7 - PregnancySum: Sansa goes to King’s Landing and marries Joffrey, she’s able to pass off her pregnancy as his though really, it’s Jon’s. Shit hits the fan and a new rebellion begins.





	1. Teasing

**Author's Note:**

> I have three of theses pre-written, but I will try to get the rest done on time! This is the most smut I have ever written at one time, and I am rather proud of myself too! Please enjoy and let me know whatcha think!

 

 

 

It started during a meeting. Jon was sitting at the end of the table with Sansa on his left and Tormund on his right. He was trying his best to appear interested, but honestly, he was bored beyond reason. Normally he was more invested in the meetings but today wasn’t one of those days. His eyes kept wondering and it took everything in him not to tap his fingers against the wooden table, or tap his foot on the stone beneath their feet. They were going over the tedious shit as Tormund would call it. The grain count, financial logs among other numerous repairs that Winterfell still needed after the War of the Dawn. Jon clamped his lips together to withhold a sigh of boredom, that’s when he felt it.

A hand suddenly laying on his knee under the table. Considering it was coming from his left, it could only be one person.

Jon side-eyed Sansa as her fingers slowly caressed his knee through his breeches. Her face was expressionless while there was an attentiveness in her eyes that could lead others to believe it was about the meeting.

It clearly wasn’t though.

Her fingers moved in a circular motion, rubbing soothingly through the clothe that was a barrier from her wandering hand to his skin underneath. The hairs on his skin rose at her attentions, it took everything in him not to shiver. Her motions then changed, soft as the tips pushed down his knee then hard as her nails scratched up. More shivers raced down his spine as tingles of pleasure shot through his nerves. As if his boredom wasn’t distracting before, now Jon could barely pay attention to anything going on around him.

Everyone mind as well be speaking another tongue for all he could understand at this point, Sansa had it utmost attention.

Smoothly her hand moved from his knee, raking her nails into his thigh. Jon bit the inside of his cheek to hold back a groan. He clenched his eyes shut for a moment as Sansa’s hand came to a stop at the top of his thigh and grasped the muscle the best she could with her smaller hand. Davos asked her a question and Sansa easily answered, tone level and perfectly normal.

Jon took a deep breath through his nose in an effort to ease his quickening pulse and flowing blood going down south. Sansa said something more though for the life of him he couldn’t process any of the words she spoke. His thoughts centered on the hand that was slowly ghosting its way to his growing hardness.

It’s then Jon notices everyone is looking at him. “Uh…what-what was that?” he asked in a stutter, just barely able to keep the strain out of his voice.

“I said,” Sansa started, drawing his attention to her amused face, “we should hold a feast for Bran’s nameday, what do you think?” The tiny smirk edging at the corner of her lips told Jon how much she was enjoying teasing him. It made his blood run hot in both lust and aggravation.

“But, your grace, we should be conserving money for the numerous repairs Winterfell still has,” Davos countered, looking down at the financial log. That’s when Sansa’s fingers started to press on his bulge, almost stealing his breath away.

“If we start setting aside a small amount of money now then by the next moon we’ll be able to afford for the feast with no repercussions,” Sansa said easily as her entire hand closed in on his cock. Jon gulped though it did little help with his throat so dry. “It would help with relations as well,” she added quickly then looked towards him again. “What do you think, your grace?”

She practically purred ‘your grace’. If Jon could get any stiffer he was sure he would. His head felt a little fuzzy and thick as he tried to get his head back together to answer her properly. She seemed to notice for she stopped her questing fingers and just held her hand closed around his cock, heat radiating from her hand back to his aching hardness.

“Whatever,” Jon began, almost groaning as the heat started to become too much. “Whatever, my lady, thinks is best,” he managed to say with only a hint of a groan at the end. He glanced at Tormund to see the wildling starring at him with a brow arched and an incredulous expression upon his face. He feared what the others would look like and so drew his eyes to the table instead.

He bore his stare into the groves in the wood as he tried everything in him to not vocalize his pleasure as her hand started to move up and down his length. What had gotten into his beautiful lady wife? Sansa has never been so forward when it came to their sex life. She still had many hang-ups that required time and patience to heal, to which he was more than happy to help, but she had never done something like this in public. Jon could feel sweat pooling at the back of his neck as he tried to ignore the movement of her hand, up and down, up and down, up and down.

As she drifted her hand up to the head of his cock still encased in his breeches she gave it a tight squeeze that made him snort; loudly.

“You okay, lad?” Tormund asked quietly, leaning close to him in question. Jon nodded quickly, coughing into a fist to make it seem like he was having a bit of a coughing fit. The ginger wildling didn’t look convinced but sat back in his seat as the meeting proceeded at its snail pace.

He was going to kill her! Either that, or ravish her once this meeting was over and he was leaning very closely to ravishing. Ideas of teasing her back in revenge fluttered around his mind just as the strings keeping his breeches together came loose. Before he could hold back a reaction her warm, soft hand slipped into his pants and smallclothes to enclose around his hard cock. Jon groaned inside his chest, closing his left hand into a fist as he felt his face scrunch up as flaming hot pleasure shot throughout his body at her touch.

“Your grace?” Davos asked uncertainly. Jon opened his eyes to see everyone starring at him as though he had lost his mind, or that he was terribly ill.

“I think I am feeling under the weather right now, we should stop for today and pick up first thing on the morrow,” he quickly said, waving off anyone’s concerns as they all slowly got up to leave.

Sansa’s hand left his cock behind as she stood up as well, turning her back on everyone to present a pleased smirk on her lips just for his eyes. She quickly made her way to the door before he called out to her, she wasn’t going to get away that easily. “Sansa.”

“Yes?” she asked softly, glancing back at him as innocently as she could muster. Jon felt his face redden as more thoughts of what he planned to do to her came to mind. “I have need of you first, if you could shut the door.”

Slowly she nodded before allowing the last of their counsel out the door then shutting it and locking it. Jon was quicker and quieter than she must have realized for he was right behind her when she finally turned back to him, this time a smirk erupted on his lips at the gasp she let out when she found him there. Sansa stepped back to the door where he braced his hands on either side of her head as he leaned in close to whisper in her ear, “Did you enjoy yourself, sweetling? Teasing me like that, very naughty of you.”

Jon groaned then dropped his face into her neck to breath in her delicious scent as her hand worked its way up and down his cock once more. This time she whispered in his ear, “You seemed in need of a distraction, so I provided it.” He mumbled sweet words into her skin as he kissed the column of her neck, pressing wet, lingering kisses everywhere he could reach as she continued to pump his length, going as far as to push his breeches down his hips to his thighs for better access.

“You’ll be the death of me,” Jon swore hotly, kissing under her chin before nipping at the sharp point. Sansa gave a husky laugh, replying, “Oh will I?”

“Aye, you will.” Her hand movement grew faster in pace as pleasure continuously build through his nerve endings, making it harder to think clearly.

The most he could do was drop his face back between her shoulder and neck as she increased the tightness of her grip as well. Though Jon originally planned on paying her back first he could barely keep his wits about him, wanting nothing more than to get his release that she was teasing for him earlier. Her hand felt so much better than his own, softer and unyielding as she aimed to milk him of his fast approaching release. His breathing picked up harshly as his pleasure started to crescendo.

“Sansa,” Jon moaned deeply into her skin as his release slammed him as though he was knocked off his horse, taking his breath away as he felt his seed shoot out of him to cover her hand and the skirts of her dress. She didn’t stop though, she kept pumping his cock. Her hand slipped as his semen made the glide of her movements easier but also harder for her to keep her grip as tight. Finally, after so many seconds went back he was drained completely, her hand was actually starting to hurt, he thought as he reached down to tangle his hand with hers.

His seed squished between their hands and fingers as his entwined his hand with hers.

“How was that?” Sansa inquired breathlessly, her own breathing just as fast paced as his own. Jon took a moment to catch some air before mumbling, “Breathtaking,” into her skin. She hummed her acknowledgement, giving his hand a squeeze as he all but caged her against the door as his body became dead weight.

“Just promise me one thing,” he said after a minute of soothing silence. She hummed again. “Don’t do that during a meeting again, I don’t think I can fake illness every time.”

Sansa started shaking gently before the laughter escaped her lips and before long his was joining hers. Jon lifted his face finally to connect their eyes before closing the gap between them for a kiss…  

 

 

 


	2. Jealousy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sum: Sansa grows jealous of the female attention Jon suddenly gains from being King in the North. (Sansa POV)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I seriously could not write smut without a damn story attached, so please enjoy the fruits of my ridiculous labor. ^_~

 

 

It shouldn’t bother her, she thought as she internally stewed. It was perfectly normal for women to show special attention to the King in the North. It was completely normal for Jon to receive such attention because he was a rather handsome man and happens to be the King in the North.

It was completely unnormal for her to be jealous.

Sansa leaned on the railing, her arms crossed over top of it as she almost glared down into the courtyard. Jon was training with the rest of the men, getting everyone into fighting shape and that tended to draw a lot of attention from the many people who couldn’t participate, that more than not tended to be women; young and old. She stood alone up on the balcony as she observed the proceedings below. It didn’t escape her sight that the women would stop what they were doing to watch the men train.

It also didn’t escape her attention that many of them were watching Jon, in particular.

She so happened to be watching him too.

Jon moved quickly, a fluidness to his movements as though he was dancing on water. It amazed Sansa how great of a fighter he was when he had been such a terrible dancer growing up. He stepped on many toes of poor young girls, her included. Arya never did, but that was because she would put her feet on top of his so he never got the chance to crush her poor toes. Jon instructed loudly, but with a gentleness of a teacher. Watching him like this still astounded her at times.

She remembered not so long ago he would lose his temper with Robb and start swinging his wooden sword without a care if a hit connected or not. The boy was gone, in his place was a man with an (mostly) even temper and military wisdom that many lacked at this period in time. There were no wars to fight, no dire need to be fully trained and sent out to fight the good fight for humanity, or Winterfell, or the North. But as Jon had stated time and again that it did not do well to grow lacks in training, they should always be on their toes and at the ready for anything. So, it was a daily occurrence to find him out in the courtyard before mid-day for training with his men. Each week it was a different group of men who he handpicked for training with him.

Many took it as an honor, while some felt it undermined their own skills that were generally well developed. Still those that felt the latter kept their mouths shut and took it as an honor nonetheless.

Sansa felt the needling of her jealousy burrowing under her skin as she took in the women standing by and watching their King. He was a sight to behold, that was for sure, she would not deny that. Yet, selfish as it may seem, she didn’t want these women eyeing her cousin as they do. He was more than the muscle and prowess in swordsmanship. Jon was thoughtful, caring, smart yet shrewd and so strong in more than his muscle strength. Sansa felt a flutter in her gut as a flush came to her cheeks.

She didn’t understand why she would be feeling this way towards him, it didn’t seem right considering for the longest time she thought him to be her half-brother. Yet, if memory served her right (when she wanted it to be right), she never truly treated him as a brother of hers. Jon Snow never felt like a true brother to her and it might have a lot to do with her Lady Mother’s feelings towards him (misguided as they were in hindsight) and the mere fact that he was a bastard (again in hindsight). Sansa never bothered to be close to him, at least not more than enough to say he was her half-brother, a bastard, but never enough to feel that kinship that she always felt with Robb, Bran and Rickon. It was a peculiar feeling to be attracted to him as she was now.

It made seeing how truly attractive he was to other women even more unbearable.

They gathered in their little groups, whispering amongst themselves about how handsome their King was, how strong and skillful, how wise and honorable. None of them would admit to the fact that they had overlooked him because of his old status as bastard before he became their King. None of them would give Jon a passing glance if he didn’t hold such a high title. Or at least, that was what Sansa thought. She could be very wrong of her analysis of them, but she knew many of them wouldn’t bare Jon a good word much less their devotion if he hadn’t been King.

Would he fancy any of them though, she thought with a deep tremor of sorrow in her bones. There were a few maids that were rather pretty, on par with her looks if she were to be honest. Some of them had softer voices than her own, high cheek bones and an innocent glow to their skin but also like an aura around them, encasing them like a cloak of protection all its own. Sansa had that once, it was ripped from her so long ago. Her innocent glow had evaporated as the cruelties of the world came down upon her. She knew it was no true protection, it may shield them for a short time, but eventually that innocent glow would go away, and the harshness of life would start seeping in like it had done her.

Sansa felt a bit sick to her stomach when she found nothing but glee at the prospect.

The sun was just hitting mid-day now, it would be an hour before the sun would hit its highest point, the hottest part of the day would be upon them and it wouldn’t do to over work the men in such heat even if it was cold enough to need furs still. Sansa watched as Jon peered up at the sun to see it’s position then his eyes were connecting with hers, something must have caught his attention towards her. She was sure it was the red shimmering in her auburn hair from the bright sunlight, it was hard not to miss it. A soft smile came to his lips as he gazed up to her, Sansa bit the corner of her lip to keep her smile just as soft then gave a little wave back to him. Jon nodded in return before going back to his men and calling it a day.

She figured she should call it a day as well and get back to work…

Her nails dug into her palms as she glared at the maid talking to Jon. She was slim, blonde hair with light brown eyes and a heart shaped face. Sansa also noted from her hidden position at the corner of the hall that she was shorter than Jon too. Her height never bothered before her attraction towards Jon became more noticeable to her, she was about an inch taller when they stood perfectly side-by-side, vaguely she always wondered if that bothered him too?

There was a painful thump in her chest at the thought. One hand pressed into her chest, still clenched in a fist while the other gripped the corner as she peered around to watch them. The maid (she couldn’t remember the girl’s name) smiled brightly up at Jon, tilting her head cutely as she spoke to him. His back was towards Sansa so she couldn’t tell if he was enamored by her, or not. She wasn’t his type, she thought in mild amusement. Tormund made some passing comment weeks ago about how Jon had a type and they happen to be redheaded but also brash and with a fighting spirit. She was acutely aware that she wasn’t exactly brash (could never be that way either) and though Sansa thought she had a fighting spirit it was probably not exactly what Tormund was talking about.

She kept reminding herself that the maid wasn’t Jon’s type to soothe her anxiety but without being able to see his face and analyze his expressions as he spoke with this girl then she could never truly be sure.

Something deep down inside her urged her to make a move, to assert dominance in front of the maid and let her know to not come sniffing around her mate. The urge startled her by how truly strong it was, as though something calling deep from within her soul. Before she could assess the situation better, Sansa found herself striding over to them, her heels clicking loudly against the stonework to declare to them that she was coming. The maid looked around him to see Sansa, the flinch back and startled look in her eyes did not escape her notice.

The urge grew louder in her ears, assert dominance. Jon turned just as she came to his side, easily sliding her hand through his arm to latch on just shy of too tightly. He seemed surprised but didn’t pull away, only smiling at her appearance, the same smile he gave her out in the courtyard the previous day. “Sansa,” he breathed out his greeting before quickly correcting himself by calling her ‘Lady Stark’. The slip did more damage than her approach though, the maid dropped her gaze and nodded her head in greeting before excusing herself quickly.

The primal urge reveled in glee at the reaction the maid gave. Sansa felt her anxiety dissipate instantly as she almost clung to her cousin. He asked her a question and she gave a reply that she couldn’t remember if asked, all she could do was soak in the sense of superiority and dominance that hugged her form like that cloak of protection she lacked since her innocence was taken from her. She felt powerful, she felt strong. Sansa turned to gaze into Jon’s dark grey eyes, they stared at her lovingly.

She felt protected…

The urge came out more and more as the weeks gone by. Every time she came upon some poor girl (not woman, they were not women when she came around) trying to flirt hopelessly with Jon she would approach with an air of dominance that seemed to make all the girls scatter. Before Sansa knew it, word was getting around among the women that speaking to Jon in any aspect that wasn’t work related would bring along the red wolf, the Lady of Winterfell, Lady Stark.

Sansa did not mind the gossip, she relished in the fact that she was asserting her dominance and showing all of them that they were nothing in comparison to her. They were mere dogs to her wolf. The pecking order was in line, in her opinion.

If Jon noticed he didn’t say anything, not around her anyway. Things seemed to be running smoothly now, Sansa felt her jealousy recede and Jon’s attention was on her without a doubt.

Then she came for a visit…

Val, the wildling princess as she was told by Tormund. She was beautiful. Long blonde hair, a dark golden honey with high sharp cheekbones and pale blue eyes that seemed to glitter as she looked around at Winterfell. She also had a lovely figure, fuller in her bosom with a tiny waist and once more like the other women around Sansa, Val had a shorter stature when she stood next to Jon. He was a full head taller.

Her clothes were white, almost purely making her hair stand out even more. She gave tight lipped smiles though it did not hinder her beauty in the least. Jon came out to greet her and her party, allowing Val to clasp her hand on his arm as he lead her inside.

Sansa felt threaten by her presence, the urge to assert her dominance was high but she had to truly assess the situation more. Val wasn’t like one of the maids, she was a whole other beast, on par with Sansa’s status and seemingly…more Jon’s type as well.

Sansa stalked her. If she was found she would say observe, but the primal urge inside her said she was stalking her prey. Watching every move Val made, every exchange she had not only with Jon, but with Tormund, Davos and even Brienne. Sansa kept a sharp eye on her and she had a feeling that Val knew too.

Val was shrewd from what she could see of the woman, she was fierce and fearless. More and more she felt that anxiety erupt inside her, the urge to assert was changing too.

The urge to attack was coming over her…

Sansa sat beside Jon but she mind as well be sitting at the opposite side of the hall with the way his attention was on Val and only Val. Jealousy practically wafted off her as she sat there, stewing in it. Sansa kept most of the irrational emotions at bay, there was no reason to feel threaten enough to attack as she was feeling. Val hadn’t done anything deserving of a fork in the hand, that didn’t mean she didn’t have the urge to do it though.

Jon burst in laughter, deep chuckles only just being drowned out by the loud echoing of chatter and laughter around the hall that was equal bannermen and free folk. Val openly laughed, her head thrown back as her hair danced with her shaking. The urge growled inside her, she gripped her fork tightly as she tried soothing the angry emotions clawing at her insides. The temptation was there, but Sansa would resist the impulse. She was a wolf, but she wasn’t an animal.

Still the day had left her tired and weary, so Sansa decided that turning in would be best. It would get her away from the sight of Val and her insistence on being near Jon as she has been all day. She knew the anxiety wouldn’t go away till the wildling princess did, but at least she could shut out the desire to see how much damage a fork could do to skin and bone. Quickly she rose, turning to excuse herself but Jon was too busy talking to Val and Tormund to notice she had stood up. Her chest hurt, right where her heart was.

Turning abruptly, Sansa briskly walked away leaving the loud hall behind her to make her way to her chambers for the rest of the night. She didn’t get far before company came to join her.

“Lady Sansa,” Val greeted smoothly, even giving a curtsy as well. Sansa took a deep breath before returning the greeting in kind, making sure her curtsy was as good as she was brought up to be. “Turning in for the night?” Val inquired, eyebrow raised as she came to stand close to her.

Even though she did not come to the same height as her, Val still stood tall. Height didn’t seem to matter for her, she could appear much bigger than she was just by the way she held herself.

“Yes, it has been a long day,” Sansa uttered blandly, not even attempting to be kind to the other woman before turning to continue her walk. Val didn’t take it as a dismissal, she appeared at her side, matching her stride for stride. It irritated her even more.

“Yes, it must have been long while watching me all day.” The statement made her stop suddenly to which Val spun on her heel in front of her, smirk curling the corners of her lips. “I fear I intimidate you, Lady Sansa,” she stated in amusement, clasping her hands in front of her. Sansa felt her jaw clench as the urge fought to get to the forefront of her mind.

“I can assure you, Lady Val that you do not intimidate me,” she confidently declared, shoulders pulled back. Subconsciously she realized that she was bracing herself for attack. Val only seemed more amused than before, smirk so settled within her face it was hard pressed to be removed so easily. The wildling princess seemed to be constantly amused by a many of things, Sansa noted.

“Alright, not intimidate then, but surely you feel threatened by me.” Sansa couldn’t stop the facial tick from giving her away. Now the other woman was pleased by her astute observation. “Ah, so threatened, but why?” Val questioned, bringing a finger up to tap at her chin thoughtfully as her eyes drew up to the ceiling. Then she blinked, and her pale blue eyes connected with Sansa’s crystal blue. “The only thing that you could possibly feel threatened of me for is…Jon Snow.”

“I don’t have time for your games,” Sansa bit out, intending on bumping her shoulder with Val’s as she proceeded to walk by her. Val reacted quicker than her, taking a hold of the shoulder meant to hit her and tugging her back till her back was against the wall as she stood in front of her, dagger braced at Sansa’s throat.

“I don’t have time for your disrespect. Admit you are threatened by me and I’ll let you go.” Sansa bit her tongue to keep her words at bay, she was not intimidated by Val and she wouldn’t allow herself to feel threatened by her either. No matter how much sorrow she felt if Jon truly preferred Val’s type over her. It was a standoff between them, dagger pressed lightly to her neck to scare but not to cut. Slowly the angry look in her eyes dissipated replaced by her ever-present amusement. “Are you so stubborn that you wouldn’t admit that my prior relationship with Jon scares you? So stubborn, so fearful that he would never feel for you…like you do for him, so threatened by the wildling princess.”

Her words burned her skin, leaving invisible scars that only she could feel and see. The wolf inside her howled, fighting against her restraints to attack the one who threatens her position beside her mate. Without realizing it Sansa bared her teeth to Val, a deep growl starting to make its way to her vocal cords but before she could release her wolf Val dropped her arm and stepped back. She appeared more intrigued than fearful, but there was an edge in her movements. A primal reaction to her wolf.

Val said nothing as she took another step back then turned on her heel so easily as before and left Sansa alone. A primal reaction to her wolf.

An acknowledgement of equals…

After the situation in the hall with Val, Sansa wanted nothing more than to curl up into a ball and fall into a blissful and dreamless sleep. She had stripped down to her shift when heavy knocks came upon her door, startling her. The knocks came so rapidly that she had no choice but answer the door in her shift.

It was Jon on the other side, his face downward in a deeply etched frown. He barely took in her attire before he was walking into her chambers and shutting the door loudly behind him. There was an anger radiating off him, a nervous energy that seemed ready to snap at a mere provocation. Sansa slowly walked further into the room as she eyed him. They hadn’t hardly fought in so many moons, practically a whole year so the thought of fighting, arguing started to put her on edge.

When Jon finally gazed at her with his piercing eyes Sansa had to hold back the whimper that wanted to escape her lips at the look. The primal urge whimpered at the anger in her mate. No! Jon’s not her mate! He would never consent to it…

“What did you both say to each other?” Jon finally said, turning to lean back against her writing desk with his arms crossing tightly against his chest as he regarded her.

“Who?” Sansa asked though she knew exactly of whom he was speaking about. Jon seemed to bristle at her question, brow arching as he stared hard at her. He was waiting for her to crack, well he would have to wait a long time for that to happen. She may have had issues with Val, but she knew Jon to know how to keep her emotions in check.

Or so she thought.

“Sansa, what happened?” Jon tried again, this time in a softer tone, less angry and more frustrated. Sansa felt a tinge of regret for taking away his laughter and ease that Val and her crew brought with her. She didn’t want to cause him any pain or frustration, not intentionally.

“We…we exchanged a few words and that’s it,” she assured tightly, her eyes bore back into his in hopes that he would take what was said and leave. He was still wearing the same clothes as during dinner while Sansa was feeling rather vulnerable in her white, practically transparent shift before him. Jon’s brows came down upon his eyes, clearly showing his frustration with her but his eyes drifted from her slightly flustered face down her body. A flush came to his own cheeks as he fully took in the fact that she was improperly dressed for any conversation.

“What type of words?” Jon asked instead of excusing himself, like propriety imposed.

“What did she say to you?” Sansa questioned, leaving his unanswered. She could see how tight his crossed arms became, knowing that she was trying to redirect the conversation from her to Val.

“Nothing, only that you were in need of me. What did she say?” Jon dropped his arms now, bracing his hands on either side of him against the edge of the desk as he looked at her with such concern filled eyes. Her heart thumped loudly in her ears as her inner wolf howled at the look. “Sansa, talk to me.”

“What do you want me to say, Jon?” Sansa stepped back from him as she crossed her own arms. Damn Val! In need of him indeed, she was being quite the pest. She couldn’t let Jon know how she felt, he may care for her, but she was sure it wasn’t so deeply. It was the same way he cared for his other siblings, once upon a time; nothing more and nothing less.

“I want you to speak to me without hiding yourself, I want you to be honest with me!” Jon begged quietly, pushing to stand and move before her, crowding Sansa back. She couldn’t be honest with him though, it would only end in heartbreak for her and she couldn’t put herself through that again. How many times will she have to suffer before she could be truly happy? Why must her happiness come at a cost? Why only her? “Did Val say something to you about me? About us?”

Sansa turned away from him, not wanting to hear the acknowledgement that there was an ‘us’ between them. It felt like her heart was bleeding out, like a wound that had scabbed over once too many times and now it would not clot and heal. She thought she had been able to drown these emotions out before, but she was foolish to think that she could keep her raw emotions at bay. She wasn’t Littlefinger, she couldn’t deny her emotions anymore.

“There is no ‘us’ between Val and I. Sansa, don’t you understand,” Jon pleaded, touching his scarred hand to her cheek to bring her eyes back to his. “The only ‘us’ I want…is between you and I.”

Slowly his words dawned upon her as her eyes grew wide while they sank into her mind. His thumb lightly brushed up and down her cheek as he gazed into her eyes so deeply she could get lost in his beautiful grey eyes forever. His eyes dropped down to stare tantalizingly at her lips, the tension in the air made it hard to breath by how thick it had become. Her own eyes dropped to his full lips, framed by his beard and so tempting.

The air quickly lighten just as her lips crashed into his, molding them together as though they belonged connected together. The hairs of his beard brushed around her lips and cheeks as they kissed, her hands clinging almost desperately to his tunic as his other hand came around her back to press her as close to him as possible. Sansa felt like lightening had struck her, firing her nerves to flaring points of pleasure as they kissed. She has never felt as alive as she does now. Their tongues met simultaneously outside their mouths, tangling around each other before he was pushing her tongue back into her mouth with his giving chase right after.

Her inner wolf howled loudly within her, echoing the moan that engulfed their attached mouths. Sansa didn’t know they were moving before her butt hit her writing desk then his hands were lifting her up onto the dark wood where Jon stepped in between her legs. She felt his hands give each thigh a squeeze then lightly brushed up to her hips to her waist and along the sides of her breasts before tangling in her hair. Sansa brought her hands up to run through his hair, scratching his scalp and gaining a groan for her actions. A smile came to her lips at the noise, it was her actions giving him pleasure, no one else’s.

Jon pulled from her lips to kiss the corner of them then her cheek to the hinge of her jaw as he worked his way down the column of her neck, leaving bruising wet kisses in his wake. She felt a tug on her shift as one strap fell down from her shoulder till her breast was exposed only to be covered by his large hand. Her nipple pebbled in the center of his palm as he squeezed her breast gently, allowing the calluses of his hand to brush against the sensitive peak. Sansa gripped his hair tightly, forcing the string keeping his hair pulled back loose to free his curls, his lovely curls. Heat radiated between their bodies, sweat gathered at the base of her neck, making the release of her shift falling to her waist even nicer.

Jon kissed along her collarbone as his lips trailed down between the valley of her breasts before encasing a pert nipple into the warm cavern of his mouth where he battered the peak with his soft, wet tongue. Sansa never felt the sensations she was receiving before, the suction of his mouth on her breast was completely new for her where the little bit of pain echoed in harmony with the pleasure she felt. She never felt such a harmony, only pain. It made her cherish Jon even more, only he could give her something so unique, so wonderful.

The bite shocked her system, sending her nerves into another frenzy of pleasure that centered and pooled between her legs. She could feel how wet she was, practically soaking through her smallclothes and onto the wood of the desk. Vaguely she hoped it wouldn’t stain. Jon released her breast with a pop that sent another tingle through her as his eyes peered up at her, the grey of his eyes shadowed by the darkness of lust that most likely mirrored her own. Sansa brushed both of her thumbs around his cheeks, swiping one against his bottom lip as she hoped he could see how much she truly loved him from her eyes alone.

Abruptly Jon lifted her from the desk, keeping her wrapped in his arms as he walked her to her bed. The thought that this was happening caused a lightness inside her chest and another howl of her inner wolf, a mating cry. Her shift and smallclothes were tugged down her legs after he set her gently onto her bed, baring her scarred, pale skin to his eyes. The absolute joy of Jon overlooking her scars to only see her made tears gather at the corners of her eyes, to know any damage done to her from careless hands meant nothing to him.

“You are not damaged to me,” Jon mumbled into the skin of her belly, kissing a long silver scar by her belly button. Sansa closed her eyes as she realized she had spoken her words out loud. Tears drifted down the sides of her face and into her hair as she felt his lips kiss further down, spreading her legs before him.

The touch of his tongue along her folds made her back arch off the bed at the peculiar yet fascinating sensation. He licked up the strip of her folds, touching his wet tongue to her wet skin. Sansa forced her eyes open so she could see his dark, curly head between her pale thighs like a beacon. She couldn’t see what he was doing but she could certainly feel his tongue pushing against her folds, spreading them as he seeks something out then the odd feeling of his tongue pushing into her. She pushed her hips up towards his questing mouth as his tongue pulled out of her entrance then back in, the sensation feeling mirroring what his cock would do soon. Jon continued to push his tongue into her then back out, sending sparks of pleasure up and down her spine.

Sansa couldn’t sit still, her head tossed and turned as her hips lifted up to keep the pressure of his mouth there. His tongue abandoned its mission to glide through her folds once more then it was attacking something that made her want to pull away rather than towards him. It was almost too much but he held her down, sucking the patch of skin that writhed in a mixture of pain and pleasure. Her throat felt slightly horse from the moans and cries that expelled from it, encouraging him on.

She could feel it, the end was near, her pleasure had been building and it was just nearing the point of toppling over. She could feel it. Sansa started begging, pleading Jon to keep going, to never stop. He took her words to heart, he sucked in against what she realized was a button at the top of her folds that gave her such intense pleasure. The pressure of his suction, of his lips closing around the button and of his tongue lashing loving caresses against it pushed her over the edge. Sansa cried out as pleasure erupted through her abdomen, touching every nerve ending and setting it aflame. His mouth didn’t let up either, prolonging the sensation tenfold before she couldn’t take anymore, pushing at his head with her trembling hands.

Jon released her pulsing skin, his eyes piercing up her body to her eyes. If she had hoped he could see how much she loved him then he probably hoped the same because that is what she saw in his heated gaze. He wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand then pulled back from her, leaving the apex between her legs to cool as he tugged his tunic from his breeches then off his body. Sansa watched bonelessly as he pulled at the strings of his breeches, forcing them down his body along with his smallclothes to reveal his naked body to her eyes.

He was a work of art.

Hard edges, roughen from a tough life in the Night’s Watch and the wars that followed but there was also a softness that left his skin glowing. His scars only enhanced the experience of witnessing his beauty, the terrible scars of betrayal were the nastiest because they succeeded where others had failed; they had killed him once. They were nothing more than a horrible memory upon the skin and mind. Sansa forced movement in her arms to sit up, jarring her still pulsing sex and sending a tingle of pleasure through her veins. Her fingers lightly traced the scarring upon his chest, running through the light bits of hair as she touched the rough edges of the scars, the worst being over his heart.

They felt surreal, fake yet very much real. Her eyes trailed over to his eyes where he watched her careful examination of him, unlike her there wasn’t tears though there was an edge of sadness around his lips and brows. His eyes were softening but still heated, still wanting. It didn’t take much to bring him down upon her, bringing his lips to hers while the rest of his body touched hers.

A time, not so long ago, she would have felt sick feeling a man’s naked skin on her own. There was a time when the thought made her want to curl up into a ball for all eternity. Now it made her feel so alive, she felt like she was breathing for the first time. Sansa knew it wasn’t only the act being so different from before, it was also the company, the man who made the most difference for her. Her lips felt bruised, but she’d rather suffocate than release his lips from this kiss.

She could feel the edges of his scars scratching her skin, the one over his heart rubbing at her nipple as he pressed his hips down on hers. His cock slid along her thigh, looking for friction. Jon managed to rip his mouth from hers, bringing them to her ear to whisper, “Are you sure?”

Her heart felt ready to burst at his question, his consideration, his love.

“Yes!” Sansa cried out, tugging his lips back to hers as Jon positioned himself between her thighs.

The sensation of his cock pushing inside her felt even more different than the other times. It was welcomed, for one, and it slid in easily enough, pushing against her spongy walls to find a snug place. Jon stilled himself as though it were her first time and that tugged at her heartstrings as well. He pulled back from her again to take in her facial expression, as though to be sure she wanted this as much as he did. “I’ve never wanted anything more from anyone else,” Sansa assured lightly, tracing the wrinkles on his forehead in hopes of smoothing them out.

Jon nodded, his soft smile reserved for only her gracing his lips then he was pressing them gently to her forehead, lingering for as long as he could handle before he started to move. What made this truly lovemaking was the connection she felt with Jon, the feeling that both their hearts were calling out to each other. The feeling that both of their inner wolves were howling together. He started off slow, building his speed over time as he gazed down at her face to watch the waves of pleasure shift through her expressions.

Sansa watched him as well, taking in the scrunch of his nose as he tried to keep a steady pace that was slower than he needed, taking in the purely pleasurable bliss that fluttered through his expressions as one particular thrust sent a jolt tingling through him. Jon shifted his position some so his pelvic bone was rubbing against that button to help push her closer to another climax. Sansa started to push her hips up to his concurrently, bringing more pleasure to both of them.

It didn’t take long for his pace to speed up, the slapping of his skin against hers echoed around them. Sansa kept up, meeting their hips even as Jon started to lose himself. He dropped his face into her neck, grunting as he thrusted harder and harder. His chest was pressed tightly to hers, brushing his puckered scars into her skin and helping to build towards her second climax. She mumbled, ‘so close’ repeatedly making sure to rub against his pelvic bone. Jon groaned loudly into the skin of her neck, she could feel his cock pulsing inside her as he released his seed. She felt immensely warm at the thought that he spent himself in her.

Jon lifted up from her abruptly, forcing a hand down between them where he rubbed hard circles around her button to tip her over the edge once more. She heard him curse, mumbling about her being so tight as a shiver went down his back.

When he finally pulled from her, Sansa almost wanted to wrap her legs around him and keep him there. He didn’t go far though, only rolling to her right side before wrapping his arms around her and keeping her pulled tightly to his sweaty chest where she placed her head upon.

For a few minutes Sansa kept her eyes shut and recalled everything that had transpired between them, warming more and more as she remembered everything so fondly. Remembering how it all started is what prompted her to speak, “I was jealous…”

“What?” Jon mumbled tiredly, probably just about to dose off when she spoke. He shifted around so he could better see her as she opened her eyes.

“I was jealous of the attention all the women gave you,” Sansa stated softly then as an afterthought added, “and of Val.” Jon snorted then chuckled gently. She would have been offended if he didn’t look so relaxed as he laughed.

“Sweetheart, you have nothing to worry about,” Jon assured her, leaning down to press his lips to the side of her temple, lovingly. “The only ‘us’ I want is between you and I,” he reiterated sleepily, falling back against her pillow. Sansa hummed.

That’s the only ‘us’ she wanted too…    

 

 

 


	3. First Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sum: Nervous about her wedding night to Joffrey, Sansa goes with her father and siblings to see Jon at the wall. Realizations are had and what little relationship she thought she had with him becomes all that more complicated. (Aged up) (Canon Divergence) (Sansa POV)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I could not stop writing...
> 
> That is all...
> 
> ^_~

 

 

Sansa didn’t think it was such a good idea in the beginning, truly she wanted to go to King’s Landing with the King and his family, to get to know her betrothed. Her father and mother thought differently though, believing she was far too young and so forced her to stay at Winterfell as her father went to King’s Landing alone as Hand to the King.

The few years that went by were much the same, Sansa excelled at her needlework and ladylike attributes while Arya faltered left and right, it came to the point that during a visit from their father he brought a man from Braavos to instruct Arya in a different kind of work. Mother was less than pleased at first, but when Arya started smiling more and seemed to excel in her own right did it change the Lady Stark’s opinion. Catelyn Stark seemed to flourish more now that a certain bastard was off at the wall.

Sansa didn’t think much of Jon when he lived with them, she barely considered him a brother at all. Arya missed him terribly and begged and begged to visit him soon. Rickon, Bran and Robb missed him too. Sansa sort of felt left out for not only not missing Jon, but not really having memories of him that were so fond like they did.

When Sansa turned six and ten and she had been bleeding for a few years was when her betrothal would come to fruition. That made her nervous, she hadn’t gotten to know Joffrey all that well when he was at Winterfell those many years ago when she was eleven. During that time she hadn’t learned much on the marriage bed as she had about everything else that was required of her as his wife, as the Queen of all Seven Kingdoms. She wasn’t sure what to do, who to ask for help with such things. She hadn’t even kissed someone before!

It was Arya’s four and ten nameday celebration wish that granted her the solution to her predicament. Father had come home for the next two moons since when he left Sansa was going to go with him to prepare for her marriage to the prince. It was Arya’s only wish for her nameday, that was to go to the wall and see Jon who had surprisingly rose to Lord Commander at twenty. Their father seemed reluctant to allow it but then he too missed his wayward son as she did her brother. Robb wished to go but couldn’t with his wife, Jeyne ready to pop with their first babe and with Bran wheelchair bound it would just be father, Arya and Rickon, that is till Sansa spoke up.

“I would like to go,” Sansa announced during a family only dinner, they were to leave the next morning and she thought about it since father said yes to Arya. Her and Jon weren’t close, barely acknowledging each other as half-brother and sister, it seemed like the perfect idea to ask him for help. Jon never not liked Sansa, when she needed help he was the one who would offer up even before Robb.

Those were the only fond memories she had of him, honestly.

Robb had gone to the wall a year earlier to talk with the new Lord Commander of the wall, he came back with tales of the Others and to Theon stories of Jon’s escapades with the Wildlings beyond the wall. Sansa and Arya hid to listen in, both being curious only to hear that Jon had laid with a woman from beyond the wall for his cover, supposedly. Arya was grossed out by the knowledge, but Sansa found it intriguing since Jon had joined the Night’s Watch he was not supposed to have sexual relations with women.

It was that little seed that blossomed as she wondered about her marriage bed and if Joffrey would hate her for not knowing how to do anything. The most she knew was that a man’s cock went into a woman’s cunt and eventually he would spill his seed to hopefully produce a baby. She didn’t know if it would be nice. Jeyne, Robb’s lady wife, said it hurt the first time, but that it was pleasurable for women as it is for men. She wouldn’t speak more about it though after Robb heard, not wanting his little sister corrupted, or some nonsense like that. If her trueborn older brother wouldn’t allow her to learn then maybe her untrue bastard, half-brother Jon would.

The idea was only half-baked, she knew but if she were truly honest with herself, she did miss Jon just a little bit; strangely.

“Really?” Arya gasped loudly, disbelief on her face. Even her father looked rather shocked. Sansa huffed as she crossed her arms.

“Yes, really! I want to see the wall,” she stated grumpily then added, “before I go to King’s Landing for good.” Her father had his thinking face on as he watched her, her mother was giving her an incredulous look as she couldn’t seem to entertain why her lady elder daughter would want to head further North. Sansa understood, she was always commenting how she couldn’t wait to head South so it seemed redundant for her to suddenly want to head even further North.

She could only hope that none of them realized her true purpose for wanting to go.

Finally, her father spoke, “If that is something you wish for then you may join us.” Sansa smiled brightly to her father as relief made her shoulders relax.

“But she’ll just be complaining about camping outside while we travel there!” Arya protested, waving her hand about.

“I won’t like it very much, but I won’t complain about it!” Sansa countered, irritation bubbling underneath her skin as she glared at her younger sister. Robb snorted in laughter, clearly not believing her.

“Sansa, it’ll be so much fun!” Rickon said excitedly, the only one who seemed happy to have her join.

“Yes, it will,” Sansa mumbled as more ideas came to mind on how she’ll convince Jon to help her. It never took much before, he was always so willing to help her out of the rest of her siblings. She figured it had to do with her mother being so disapproving of him, either way it would help her in the end…

The camping wasn’t the worst of it, Sansa thought as their horses trotted along the dirt road. Even the cold wasn’t the worst of it either. It was the wear and tear of riding that got to her the most, she held her tongue for the most part, so she wouldn’t prove her sister right. She was getting saddle sores something fierce on her butt and thighs, not to mention her lower back hurt from the constant riding that created a stiffness she wasn’t prepared for. Luckily Rickon enjoyed rubbing her back when they camped at night.

Lady, Nymeria and Shaggydog were having the times of their lives, running amuck in the woods as they traveled. Lady always came back clean as ever while the other two were muddy messes. Sansa smiled at her direwolf as she kept pace with her horse, glancing around them occasionally. That was another thing she couldn’t wait to see, Jon’s direwolf, Ghost. He was such an incredible looking direwolf, all white and red eyed. Robb recalled that he was bigger than Greywind now and still silent as ever.

Sansa felt giddy as they made their way to the wall. Father had stated that they could make it there before nightfall and be able to sleep in real beds! She couldn’t wait to cuddle with Lady and sleep on a bed, it didn’t matter if it was feathered or straw, anything was better than fur covered ground. Arya talked for most of the trip, just as giddy only to see Jon and the wall. When she had talked their father’s ear off along with Jory would she then pull her rein, so her horse walked along side Sansa’s and talk to her.

Though they were nothing alike as they both had gotten older Sansa and Arya found a balance between each other where a true friendship could form. Their mother had gotten so tired of their fighting and bickering that she dragged them to one of the small pantries in the kitchen and locked them in there till they could act like real sisters. They fought some more then endured silence between each other. It didn’t take long before Sansa broke and apologized to which Arya followed. Her sister admitted to always being jealous at the fact that she did everything attributed to ladies so well and Sansa admitted to being jealous that Arya could be free-spirited and not let the chains of society keep her down.

In the end they came to an understanding between each other. They may not always get along, but ever since the pantry incident they never got to each other’s throats either.

During one of Arya’s chatters about seeing Jon a memory came to Sansa’s mind. It was vague, one made when she was little, maybe five or six. It was dark, she had a nightmare and got lost on her way to her parent’s chambers. She ended up coming across Jon’s chamber instead. Sansa remembers telling him she’s scared and asked if he would take her to father and mother. She could just remember the pained look on his face when she said mother then he mumbled sleepily that it was late and if she was scared she could sleep with him.

Sansa jumped into his bed where he put as much distance between them as possible. Being so little she didn’t understand why so she forced him to snuggle her, saying it helped keep the monsters away. Jon relented and allowed her to snuggle into his arms. If Sansa remembered correctly she never felt as safe when she snuck into Robb’s bed as she did that night with Jon. There was just something about him that made her feel secure and protected. Sansa shook her head to ease the peculiar feeling that memory left her.

Actually, the whole trip North brought strange memories she had long since buried in the back of her mind to the forefront, many of them involving Jon in one way or another. Maybe she did have fond memories of her half-brother like the rest of her siblings, she just buried it away for some reason.

She wished she knew why…

The gates opened slowly after their father announced who they were. Arya was silently hopping in her saddle as was Rickon, both excited to see Jon and Ghost. Even father had a grand smile on his lips to see Jon, though there was a tinge of sorrow there as well. Seeing it reminded Sansa that Uncle Benjen was still missing, lost on a range they were told. She wondered how Jon took the news so long ago? Their horses steadily walked into the large courtyard where many men of the Night’s Watch stopped what they were doing to watch them.

Jory helped Sansa from her horse and went to help Arya, but she was already a step ahead of him, so he helped Rickon instead. Lady came up to her side quickly, glancing around the many men watching them silently. Sansa followed her siblings and father to where she could make out a man coming towards them.

It only took her a second to realize it was Jon.

He was taller, much taller than before, his shoulders had broadened out as even his face looked manlier. He was a man of twenty and it showed. His hair was still loose and curly as it was their whole lives, his eyes still a dark grey but his face had some scars upon it, too slim to be made from a sword fight, she thought. He smiled broadly before hugging their father, he was practically a spitting image of their Lord father, she noted. He then drew his eyes over to Arya who wasted no time jumping into his waiting arms as she had done when they were younger. Rickon didn’t have many memories of Jon, but that didn’t stop him from jumping into his arms after Arya dropped to the ground.

Sansa stayed back with Jory, she didn’t expect Jon to have the same reaction towards her as he did with Arya and Rickon. They hadn’t been close before he left. Still, she felt a tinge of pain at the thought that he might just nod his head at her, but then she thought, would she not do the same of him? Sansa bit the inside of her cheek as Jon let their little brother drop to the ground before setting his eyes on her. He looked taken aback upon seeing her, Sansa realized then that maybe father hadn’t sent a raven stating that she would be joining them.

The thought that he possibly didn’t want her there made a lump form in her throat. Maybe she shouldn’t have come? She was only here for selfish reasons anyway, maybe that was what she deserved then? To come here hoping to get Jon to help her only to find he wanted nothing to do with her? Irony, that is what her mother would call it.

“Sansa,” Jon breathed out as a breathtaking smile came to his lips. The lump in her throat dissolved as he approached her quickly, taking her up in his arms so abruptly she didn’t have much time to react. His arms closed around her body tightly, squishing her chest into his and lifting her off her feet. Sansa managed to wrap her arms around his neck just as tightly, overcome with emotions she didn’t think she would ever feel for Jon.

She did miss him, truly.

He seemed to hug her longer than father and Rickon, even longer than he held Arya. Once her feet were set on the ground did she realize that Arya was staring at them strangely, even father seemed surprised by the display of affection between them. They weren’t the only ones, Jon’s face turned a bit red as hers heated up. He gave her lower back a rub then quickly shook hands with Jory who disregarded what happened and pulled Jon into a hug as well. Rickon suddenly squealed and there upon them was Ghost.

Robb wasn’t joking when he said Jon’s direwolf was bigger than Greywind. Ghost was positively massive, outweighing all three of the direwolves as he came upon them. He touched noses with Shaggydog who reacted much like Rickon did and then Nymeria who shrugged her head into his then finally Lady who nuzzled Ghost’s jaw lovingly. Sansa found that odd since Lady never reacted that way towards the other wolves.

“How about everyone gets settled into the guest quarters then we can have supper in the my chambers?” Jon offered, smiling at their tired nods. They followed him as he led the way. Sansa went to grab her trunk when a man stepped up to grab it for her.

He was tall, but slim with dark eyes and black curly hair. Sansa had never met a man that she would ever call beautiful, but that is what he was. His lashes were even longer than her own to go along with his pretty eyes. “Please, allow me to carry your trunk, my lady,” he said in a sweet voice that shocked her to hear.

“Thank you, uh…”

He smiled at her pause then bowed his head. “Satin, I am Lord Commander’s steward,” he announced as he carried her trunk easily. Pretty name for such a pretty man, Sansa thought as she followed them up the stairs.

Sansa was given the room furthest from the rest at the end of the long hall, one room was preoccupied by a woman named Gilly. She smiled shyly at them before disappearing in her room. It shocked her to see a woman living there, considering the Night’s Watch only took men as far as she knew. Maybe they changed that policy when Jon took command?

The room that would be hers for the next two weeks was small, but the bed was very comfortable much to her surprise and with it being a smaller room it would stay warmer too. The rest of the room was rather bland with wooden walls and floors, but that was to be expected at Castle Black, she didn’t expect a highborn lady’s room. Satin gently set her trunk down by the bed and smiled brightly at her. “Thank you, Satin,” Sansa said as she got up from the bed.

“No need to thank me, my lady, it was my pleasure,” he replied back with a flutter of his long lashes then he was leaving her as Lady came in, giving him a sniff before jumping onto the bed and making herself comfortable.

“Oh, so I suppose you think that is where you will be sleeping, is that it?” Sansa asked Lady who merely blinked at her then closed her eyes.

“Nice to see that Ghost isn’t the only one who does it,” Jon said at the doorway, startling her. He was staring at Lady fondly then directed his eyes to her. Sansa felt like she was drowning in his eyes, they were so piercing, so entrancing.

“You look well, Jon,” Sansa managed to say, feeling a blush riding high on her cheeks. He nodded slowly then waved his hand out to her as he stuttered over his words, “And you look…well as well…”

“Thank you.” Sansa tried not to laugh at his stumble, an impish smile coming to her lips that made him flush even more.

“I uh…I wasn’t expecting you to be coming,” Jon stated quietly, leaning against the doorframe heavily as he regarded her with those entrancing eyes. Sansa felt a flutter in her tummy that she had only ever felt when she first met Prince Joffrey. Curious.

“Yes, it was a last-minute decision.” He nodded, dragging his eyes down her body to the ground. The action caused a shiver to go down her spine that had nothing to do with the cold.

“Well, I’m…I’m glad you came,” he said as he stumbled his words once more, his grin told her as much that he was happy to see her. That made the lingering anxiety that she would not be wanted to disappear altogether. Sansa opened her mouth to say something along the lines of being glad to come when she heard Arya shout out to Jon in the hall. He unfolded himself against the doorframe, gave her another nod then traveled out to see their sister.

Sansa dropped unceremoniously to the bed from both exhaustion and the peculiar exchange between her and Jon. It had been five years since she last saw him, but he seemed downright like a stranger to her and possibly vice-versa. It was like meeting him for the first time, it definitely didn’t feel like reuniting with a brother, that was for sure…

The supper was roasted sausage with corn and bread, nothing so extravagant but after the long three-day trek to the wall, it mind as well be the most amazing meal ever to everyone including Sansa. Jon spoke more during that supper than she could ever remember him doing back at Winterfell. Arya asked him question after question, more intrigued by the answers as he responded to them. She even witnessed him laughing, something he rarely did back home as well. It really was like meeting a stranger posing as her half-brother, Sansa thought.

She wondered if he was feeling the same?

A man entered while they ate, he was one of the biggest men she had ever seen, larger than even King Robert from what she could remember, but he had a kind face, and a shy smile on his lips as he entered. Jon jumped up to introduce him as Samwell Tarly, maester in training and one of his good friends. Sam greeted them with a slight stutter, obviously not one to enjoy such attention on him all at once. Father insisted he join them for supper and soon enough Jon’s steward, Satin joined them as well.

Sansa didn’t speak much during the whole exchange, opting to listen as everyone talked about the years gone by and the changes that came with the passage of time. Father was the one to broach on the subject of Sansa leaving for King’s Landing for her betrothal to Joffrey Baratheon. Both Satin and Sam stared at her with wide eyes as Jon held a bland expressionless face. His eyes were dropped to the table as father stated how she would be crowned Queen when Joffrey took the throne.

“That must be exciting,” Satin commented across from her, smiling sweetly. Sansa nodded, her cheeks blazing in heat from all the attention she was receiving. Her eyes drifted over to Jon, but he still kept his eyes on the table, his face still expressionless.

“Are you prepared to be Queen?” Sam asked interestedly. She bit her lip before stopping, reminding herself it wasn’t ladylike to do so then pursed her lips together in thought.

“I am plenty prepared, but Prince Joffrey won’t be crowned King for quite a few years yet.” Father took over the conversation then, speaking of King Robert and King’s Landing. Jon seemed rather silent during the rest of the supper though…

The next few days were full of activity for most everyone but Sansa. Jon showed everyone the in’s and outs of Castle Black, introducing them to his brothers here and everything that held the place together. Sansa find it all interesting, but she didn’t partake in much of anything there as Arya and Rickon did. She watched as Jon trained with them, showing Rickon some moves then demonstrated them with Arya. Their little sister surprised him the most with her swiftness and technique. It was entertaining to watch them interact, it was even more entertaining to watch Jon.

More and more she was reminded of how much of a man he was and how well respected he was here at the wall. Everyone greeted him as ‘Lord Snow’, or ‘Lord Commander Snow’ with nods of respect. The thing she noticed most was how uncomfortable he seemed to be at the title, his shoulders slightly tensed up and his lips flatten though not in an unkind way as though he was displeased with any of them. Maybe he didn’t like what the title meant? Maybe he didn’t like the reminder of his status, she thought grimly.

It made sense that Jon would hate to be reminded of his bastard last name. Sansa could remember a time he would flinch when people said his full name, even more so when they referred to him as just ‘the bastard’. Even as a man it still bothered him. Some things never changed, she supposed.

“He’s a great fighter, isn’t he?” Sansa heard someone say in a gentle voice. She turned to see the lone woman at Castle Black, Gilly.

They had all learned that night that Gilly stayed as a live-in maid, Sam spoke of her fondly showing his obvious loving affection for the woman. What astounded Sansa more was the fact that Gilly had a son with her, Little Sam. It didn’t take a genius to figure out who his namesake was. She had yet to see the little babe, she hardly seen the woman till now.

“Yes, he’s always been like that,” Sansa agreed, smiling gently as Gilly walked closer to her so they could look out over the balcony together.

“Were you…” Gilly started to speak then stopped altogether, face flushing. Sansa corked an eyebrow at her in question.

“Were I what?” she asked kindly, urging her to speak. The smaller woman shook her head, mumbling it wasn’t appropriate to ask such a question. “Nonsense, if I am truly uncomfortable with the question then I shall not answer,” she assured, turning her head to give Gilly her full attention.

“Were you Lord Commander’s secret love? When he lived at Winterfell?” Gilly practically whispered, her words almost lost in the cold air between them.

Sansa felt like ice was dropped over her head, traveling down her shoulders to pool in her lower tummy. “What?” she mumbled in confusion. Secret love? Jon had a secret love back home?

The idea was absurd, he barely spoke to any girls when they were growing up. Even Jeyne Poole rarely spoke with him, her best friend. Did he know someone else she didn’t? Why did the idea upset her stomach so?

“Oh,” Gilly gasped, clasping her hands together as she bowed her head to hide her red cheeks. “I just, I only heard him speaking to Sam about a secret love he had before coming to Castle Black. He described her as having auburn hair and said it could never be,” Gilly quickly explained, glancing up to gauge Sansa’s face.

Sansa felt like she was out of breath, she shook her head to try and clear the confusing thoughts gathering within it. “Gilly, you do know were half-siblings, right?” Sansa asked faintly, she didn’t know if she felt this way because of the information dropped on her so suddenly. Why was it bothering her that Jon had a possible secret love? Sure, she was hoping to ask Jon for his help in learning about the marriage bed, but she hadn’t gotten much a chance of speaking privately to him and he seemed to be almost avoiding her since supper the night they arrived.

She wasn’t sure if she was shocked that the secret love had auburn hair, or by the fact that Gilly assumed she was his secret love.

“Yes, I know that,” Gilly announced with certainty, a shy almost sorrowful smile came to her lips as she continued, “You don’t know much about me, do you?” Sansa merely shook her head. With a gulp she pressed on, “My father lived beyond the wall, Crastor’s Keep is what they called our home. He married his daughters and gave away his sons to the Others.”

Sansa felt a gasp escape her as the implications of what Gilly told her connected in her mind. “So, you and Little Sam…”

Gilly nodded almost numbly, taking a step back before whispering an apology then briskly disappearing around the corner. Sansa wanted to tell her she needn’t apology for her assumption, but she was already gone…

That night she felt restless, pacing around her small room as Lady watched her with some apprehension as though preparing for a command of attack. Sansa couldn’t blame the direwolf, she was on edge since that afternoon with Gilly. She barely ate supper, opting to leave early with excuses of being tired. The idea that Jon had a secret love truly bothered her, it made her want to simultaneously throw something and cry. Her emotions were all over the place and it was all because of Jon.

But why?

Sansa dropped to the bed, falling back to gaze up at the ceiling as her thoughts swirled around her mind endlessly. Maybe it was a bad idea to come here? It was starting to feel awfully awkward with Jon and she hadn’t made any actually leeway with him either. Maybe it was a mistake? Sansa closed her eyes for a moment to calm her thoughts, or at least she thought it to be a moment, but when she opened her eyes she felt tired yet vaguely refreshed. The candle she had just lit was out, wax melted down to its holder. Lady was curled up at the bottom of the bed, sleeping soundly.

Her legs ached from their prone position bent over the bed, little pops and cracks echoed around the quiet room as she forced herself to stand. She felt suddenly restless and pacing the room anymore would only serve to make her dizzy. Sansa pulled her fur cloak over her shoulders, fastening it at her neck before leaving the room, but not before Lady jumped up from the bed to join her.

The hall was quiet and dark, no sounds came from the rooms she passed, her family fast asleep. As should I, she thought. The blast of cold air from opening the door consumed her, chilling her to the bone. Lady bristled at her fur, shaking her body as though to shake off the cold. Sansa smiled at her, brushing her fingers through the tuft of fur at the top of her head as they ventured around the walkway. She could see the lanterns littering the courtyard and on the banisters along the walkway, her eyes drew up to the top of the wall that she could just barely make out.

Jon had yet to bring them up there, she thought, the white of the wall looking bluer at night and almost ominous as it loomed overhead. Jon mentioned over supper that when the sun hit it just right in the morning it sparkled like a thousand jewels. His eyes peered over at her when he said it, another fond smile on his lips as he gazed at her. She wanted to see that, but more than anything strange as it was, she wanted to see that with Jon by her side.

As she was passing a door opened up startling both her and Lady who growled menacingly, bracing herself for an attack. Ghost walked out silently, regarded her in question as her direwolf immediately went from attack mode to loving mode. She nuzzled her head to his, licking at his chops so lovingly that Sansa felt she was intruding on something intimate. Her eyes drew up to the door to see Jon standing there watching the direwolves as well, clearly as puzzled by their interactions as she was. He then looked over at her, brow arched in question as to why she was out there.

“I was feeling restless,” Sansa answered his unspoken question, he nodded as he shut the door behind him. She realized it was his quarters though he was still dressed in his uniform black. “And you?” she inquired as he came to stand before her.

“Aye, feeling much the same,” Jon stated quietly, glancing around them in the dark, seemingly looking to see if others were around. Sansa followed his gaze then once more caught sight of the wall, the want, nay, the need to see from the top grasped at her heart so suddenly, she almost staggered back.

“Take me to the top of the wall, Jon,” Sansa almost demanded. He turned back to her, confusion scrunching his long face.

“It’s too dark to see anything and dangerous,” he stated sternly. She shrugged her shoulders in an unladylike gesture, crossing her arms over her chest as she pinned her stare onto him.

“I don’t care, I want to see.” Jon looked clearly unconvinced, leaning back against the railing behind him as he regarded her with mild amusement. “If you won’t take me then maybe I’ll get Satin instead,” Sansa offered wickedly, finding the array of irritated emotions fluttering across his face amusing. “Please Jon.”

“Aye, alright, I’ll take you, but you stay beside me. No leaving my side,” Jon said firmly, coming to stand before her to bore his serious eyes upon her. She nodded just as seriously then smiled as she looped her hand around his arm even though he hadn’t offered it. His stumble indicated that he wasn’t expecting it either.

Ghost and Lady joined them on the wooden elevator as it slowly rode up the side of the massive wall. The wind was stronger up here, sending flurries of snowflakes around them. If Sansa felt she was chilled to the bone before, she was practically frozen now. She snuggled up close to Jon in hopes of leeching some warmth off of him. He stood stiffly, seemingly unaffected by the cold; like a true Stark. They didn’t speak during the ride up, the wind blasting around them would have made it hard to hear anyhow.

Once they made it to the top, Jon opened the grated door, reaching behind him for her hand. He had thick woolen gloves on his hands while hers were slimmer, just as warm but more formfitting to her hand. She felt an immense sense of security as he gripped her hand while leading her onto the wall. Some of the men manning the wall nodded their heads to them but kept to themselves. Sansa followed Jon as he led her farther away from them to a small alcove where they had some privacy. He was right that it was too dark to see anything, it was pitch black out beyond the wall, but the sight was still breathtaking. She could just make out the trees lining the ground so far below.

Jon allowed her to get a little closer to the edge to look down the side of the wall. The drop was dizzy inducing, more than happy to cling to Jon’s hand and arm as she peered down.

“What do you think?” Jon finally asked as she pulled back safely from the edge. Sansa turned to him with a bright smile. “It’s beautiful.”

“You’d like it more in the mornin’, for a few minutes the light hits the wall just right and makes it sparkle like magic,” Jon stated wistfully, a soft smile coming to his lips.

“Then I guess we should stay up the rest of the night to witness it,” Sansa jokingly said, giving his hand a squeeze. He snorted at her absurd suggestion, bumping his shoulder lightly to hers. It was something he would do to Arya, she thought, but then he probably wouldn’t be holding her sister’s hand like he was holding hers.

“Maybe you can, but I need sleep.” Sansa puckered her lips in a pout that made Jon laugh lightly, once more bumping her shoulder with his. She easily bumped back, giving him an impish smile.

His lips parted to reveal his gleaming teeth underneath in a broad grin that stole her breath away more than the cold. Standing so close to him made the grin even more intimate, gazing into her eyes as he was brought on a heat she never had felt before drifting over her chest and down to her stomach where it strangely pooled between her legs. Sansa closed her teeth over her bottom lip, drawing his dark grey eyes to her lips where he visibly gulped. Her own eyes dropped to his, noticing probably for the first time how full they were and entrancing as they were enclosed by his beard. She always thought beards were ugly, she always thought she would never want Joffrey to grow one, but on Jon…

She quickly changed her opinion on beards.

“Sansa,” Jon mumbled almost as a warning, she ignored it as she stepped close enough to put them chest to chest. She wetted her lips subconsciously, gaining a groan from him. In the back of her mind she knew it was wrong to feel so attracted to her half-brother, knew it wouldn’t end well to allow something like this to grow, but Sansa also didn’t care.

She had originally come to learn about the marriage bed by the one person who never denied her before, possibly couldn’t deny her, if she were honest. Jon released her hand, placing both upon her shoulders as he stepped back from her. Sansa wasn’t having it though, she aimed to follow him, but his arms locked into place to keep her at bay. “Sansa,” Jon said again, this time far more sternly than earlier. His eyes were clearer as well.

“Jon,” Sansa breathed back, bringing her hands up onto his arms, slowly trailing them from his wrists to his elbows where she gripped hard. He started to shake his head at her, a haunted look entering his features. “Jon please,” she pleaded, pushing down on his elbows in hopes of forcing him to unlock his arms. He was far stronger than her though, he didn’t relent.

“No,” he said in finality, giving her shoulders a squeeze. “We can’t.”

“Why not?” she asked though the answers were more than obvious, they were half-siblings, he was Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, and she was betrothed to the crowned prince of the Seven Kingdoms.

“You know why not,” Jon stated almost angrily, releasing his grip on her abruptly so he could step back from her.

“I don’t care,” Sansa declared heatedly, forcing her way into his personal space, forcing him back against one of the man-made walls out of snow.

“You are betrothed to Prince Joffrey, you are my sister-Half-sister,” Sansa cut off, placing her hand on his chest where she could feel his heart pounding against his chest. “As if that makes much of a difference, Sansa? It’s not right, it’s not proper.”

“When does propriety ever manner to a bastard?” Sansa realized her mistake just as the words left her mouth.

Jon’s whole demeanor changed, his face turned expressionless and mouth flatten to a thin line that made his face look even longer. Her face fell immediately as she realized how hurtful her words had to be. “Jon, I’m sorry I shouldn’t have-No, you shouldn’t have,” Jon cut her off this time.

“My answer is no, Sansa, now you’ve seen your fill of the wall, yes?” Sansa could only nod, tears welling up in her eyes. She hadn’t meant to say that, she hadn’t meant to hurt him so. She just wanted…him? Sansa wasn’t sure what she wanted anymore. Seeing Jon again after so long has confused her feelings so much and she had gone and screwed it up, royally.

Such cruel irony, her mother would comment solemnly.

Sansa followed behind Jon, opting to not touch him so freely as she had before, knowing her touch was very unwelcomed. Ghost and Lady met them half way back to the elevator, both looked in better spirits than their owners were. The ride down felt suffocating, tension floated around them like a cloud of despair. Sansa forced her tears to stay at bay, to not cry in front of him. Jon deserved better than her regretful tears.

He walked her back to her room, not bothering to say goodnight before leaving her and Lady behind. Sansa stood by her door, watching as Jon left. He never looked back once…

She didn’t bother breaking her fast with everyone, she barely felt the urge to get up much-less eat. Sansa tossed and turned the remainder of the night, each position left her feeling ill at ease and plainly just awful. Her words kept coming back to her, haunting her, torturing her. Why had she said that? Was she so desperate?

He was right though, it wasn’t right. It was stupid of her to think he’d stoop so low as to engage her in anything sexual, even a simple kiss. Stupid little girl, she thought distastefully, sitting up in bed. Staying there was only making her back ache and she was once more feeling quite restless. Sansa quickly braided her hair into one long braid as she changed into a simple woolen dress. As she stepped out of her room, Lady trailing behind her she noticed Sam coming out of Gilly’s room. He whispered something to her, probably not wanting to wake Little Sam before closing the door gently.

Remembering what Gilly had said the previous day, she quickly approached Sam as he moved to leave. “Sam?” Sansa called gently, keeping her voice down so she wouldn’t disturb Gilly and her son.

Sam turned around in surprise, his face flushed as a shy smile came to his lips. “Hello,” he greeted, twiddling his gloved fingers together as she came up to him.

“I have a few questions for you, do you think we could talk in private?” Sam blinked at her owlishly, he chewed on his lips as he thought about her request. Quickly, she batted her eyes at him and smiled sweetly, “Please Sam.”

“Alright, uh follow me,” Sam mumbled, waving her along as he led the way.

He took her to the Maester’s chambers where Aemon was sleeping in the back of the room. Sansa didn’t think it was really private, but Sam quickly assured her that Maester Aemon could sleep through anything, “sleeps like the dead, he does.”

They sat down at the main table, Sam pushing away some of the clutter before slowly turning his attention upon her.

“I have a question for you, in regards to Jon.” Sam frowned instantly, he suddenly didn’t seem so shy as before. He nodded slowly, indicating he would hear her out. Sighing Sansa started, “I was told by Gilly that Jon had spoken to you about a secret love he left behind in Winterfell.”

“No,” Sam said firmly, jumping to his feet quickly. “I can’t help you, that’s private, Lady Sansa. If you must know then ask Jon.”

“I would, but I…” Sansa felt her tears from last night water in her eyes, she peered up at Sam sadly making him gulp uncomfortably. “But I screwed up, he won’t talk to me now and I…I just want to understand.” Her tears and words seemed to help as Sam retook his seat, staring at the floor somberly.

“He…He knows its wrong for how he feels, but he can’t help it,” Sam stated softly, his eyes seemed to refuse to meet hers as he spoke. “He told me it was one of many reasons he decided to take the black. He didn’t want to sin…he didn’t want to harm…you.”

Sansa blinked rapidly as his words sank into her skin. She was his secret love? She tried to conjure up memories that would reveal his true feelings, but her mind felt too jumbled and she was so tired. She wondered if it would be so wrong for him to sin again, he did it once before with the wildling woman, so she heard. He was Lord Commander, who would tell him otherwise? He’s too honorable, Sansa thought soberly.

Abruptly she stood causing Sam to finally look at her. “Thank you, Sam, I think I understand better now.” He nodded as she left him.

Her trek back to her room was intercepted by Ghost who joined her on her way back to her room where she left Lady. They curled up together on the floor, heads snuggled together. It was a sweet scene, she noted as she laid on her bed, slowly sleep took her.

During her sleep she reminisced the days long passed in Winterfell, back when they were young, and Jon was there. It was in her sleep that she remembered things she hadn’t before, she remembered the long looks he’d give her from his brooding corner, she remembered how he was always first to offer his help and how solemn he’d become when she declined it for Robb’s or even Theon’s, she remembered her younger self having more nightmares and sneaking into Jon’s bed when Robb would say no, and she remembered her disappointment when Arya would beat her to Jon.

She remembered feeling the stirring of a crush on Jon when she was little, before she knew what him being a bastard meant. She remembered thinking of her eventual wedding and she especially remembered how Jon’s face filled the knights, or prince’s features during those fantasies. Sansa remembered the first night King Robert came to Winterfell when she was eleven and she walked with her hand on Joffrey’s arm as they entered the hall, most of all though, she remembered peering over at Jon before he noticed her, feeling bad that he couldn’t join them with the King’s family.

Vaguely wishing it was Jon who held his arm to her instead…

Sansa woke in a sweat, jumping even higher when she noticed Arya standing over her. “It’s not like you to over sleep,” she commented, a hint of concern in her voice as Sansa sat up.

“I slept terribly last night,” she stated tiredly, moving her legs over the side of her bed where Arya plopped down beside her. Her grey eyes watching Sansa unflinchingly, Sansa found it hard to look at her eyes when they so vividly reminded her of Jon’s.

“You’ve been acting strange since coming here,” Arya stated, turning so her knee was folded on the bed, digging into her thigh. “Does it have to do with Jon?”

Sansa immediately shook her head, but she could tell her sister was less than convinced. “No.”

“You know,” Arya started, stretching her arms over her head where they both heard pops, “I remember being so jealous of how Jon acted around you.” Sansa frowned, pursing her lips together tightly as she gave her sister a puzzled look.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Arya.”

“Course you do, he’s acting exactly the same as before,” she pointed out with a smirk edging on her lips, she then waved her hand in front of her, gesturing to the room. “I mean he gave you the biggest room possible, he constantly looks for you during mealtimes, he was rather disappointed this morning though he seemed sadder than normal too. Jon has always tried to be on your good side, he always tried to treat you like a princess, at least when you let him.”

“What is your point then?” Sansa asked, mildly annoyed by the fact she had only just begun to notice how different Jon treated her from the rest. Had he always cared for her beyond the realms of brother and sister? Sam and Arya seem to be pointing towards an affirmative.  

“My point is he doesn’t treat you like a sister….” Sansa felt her mouth go dry as Arya bore her eyes down upon her. “And?” she inquired quietly, waiting for her to be chewed out by her sister.

Arya sighed then shrugged her shoulders, the gesture seemed so natural on her. “Don’t hurt him. You are going to marry a prince and he’s going to be stuck here with that knowledge for the rest of his life…don’t hurt him.”

With that her sister stood up, smiled at Ghost and Lady still cuddled on the floor before giving Sansa a nod as she left. She sat there for the longest time, letting Sam’s words and Arya’s wash over her as she pieced together her long forgotten memories. It was all a mess, but at the same time it was thrilling and eye opening. Her sister was right though, Jon was stuck here till the end of his time and short of death was the only way he’d be able to leave his post here at the wall.

She would go on to marry Joffrey and produce babies as heirs to the throne of the Seven Kingdoms and Jon would have to stay put and live with that knowledge. Suddenly Sansa wanted to scream, why was everything so unfair? Why did she come here when all it would do is bring more heartache and misery? Why did she wish so much that she wasn’t betrothed to Joffrey?

Why? Why? Why?

Sansa spent the rest of the day stewing in her room with so many unanswered questions swirling around her mind. She was afraid to answer them, honestly. Satin came in with food for her, he didn’t say who ordered him to do so but it didn’t take too much thought to realize Jon had asked him too. She ate little as the food left an even bigger emptiness inside her as each question she thought of had unsettling answers. Ghost and Lady had left her awhile ago, wanting to be out exploring, together. Sansa felt the oppressing sense of loneliness bare down upon her shoulders as she stood in the middle of her room. It was unbearable.

She didn’t realize she was outside till she felt the encompassing cold on her fingers. She hadn’t grabbed her gloves, nor her cloak for protection and it was late into the evening. The loneliness still clung to her and it was rather suffocating. Briskly she moved down the walkway, ignoring the icy cold air filtering around her as she moved, coming to a stop in front of his door. Sansa took every ounce of bravery and strength within her very soul and knocked. She heard rustling then the door was opening to reveal Jon.

He looked just as tired as she was, a dark grey under his eyes and a weariness in his gaze as he took her in. His frown didn’t deter her, she waited as patiently as she was taught to be. Finally, he sighed defeatedly, waving her in and shutting the door behind them. It was much warmer in his chambers, she hadn’t realized how cold she truly was till now. Goosebumps littered her exposed skin as she tried rubbing them away. Jon startled her with dropping his cloak around her shoulders abruptly, stepping around her to stoke the fire more.

“Why were you out there without your cloak, or gloves?” he asked as he poked the fire to life. Sansa didn’t know how to answer that, she had no idea why she left her room so quickly aside from feeling stifled and alone.

So very alone…

“I…I don’t know,” Sansa mumbled as she approached the fire to warm up more. His cloak smelled like him and it was warmer than even her cloak. She buried her nose into the fur lining around her shoulders as she watched Jon intently, he was still crouched at the fireplace though his work was done.

“Why are you here?” he finally asked much more quietly, slowly he stood up, but he kept his back to her. Sansa closed her eyes for a moment, gathering her thoughts together before she answered him. There was so many things to say, so many things left unsaid between them, and so many, many ways things could end terribly.

Sansa was walking a fine line here, and if she isn’t careful she could make things even worse than they had become already. Opening her eyes, she noticed Jon looking over his shoulder at her with such a sad expression on his face, such sorrow as he gazed at her longingly. He wanted her as much as she found herself wanting him. He had always wanted her, had always…loved her. Sansa felt incredibly stupid for disregarding him so easily, so stupid for not noticing when she felt so much the same.

She loved him…

“I’m here because of you,” she murmured, stepping up to him like the previous night though this time he stood firm, unmoving. “I’m here because I want to be, I’m here because…because I love you and I’m not going to let father stand in my way, I’m not going to let propriety stand in my way, and I’m…not going to let me stand in my way anymore.”

Jon nodded slowly, he didn’t push her away, nor did he try to stop her as she placed her hands on his chest. His heart was pounding like before yet there was no apprehension in his face as she gazed at him. “Will you stand in my way?” she asked with a tilt of her head.

“No,” Jon said softly, voice nothing more than a rumble in his chest.

“Good.”

Sansa’s hands moved up his chest to his shoulders then slowly crawling up his neck to grip into his curly dark hair. It didn’t take much to drag him towards her lips, he was more than willing. The soft brush of his lips to hers was everything she thought a first kiss should be and so much more. Jon closed his hands around the small of her back, tugging her against his chest as his lips pressed insistently against hers. It was a learning curve with kissing him, he was far more experienced than her, but he gave her time, letting her explore different positions. Turning her head this way and that way before he traced her lips with his tongue. Sansa felt shook by the sensation, gasping at his boldness.

Quickly she copied his moves, tracing her tongue on his lips, feeling the soft, chapped lips that entranced her so. Another lightening shock ran through her when his tongue lightly touched hers, feeling the ridges on his tongue brush hers was a feeling she had nothing to compare to. It was both strange and extremely pleasant and before she knew it his tongue was in her mouth, warring against hers as they kissed. Jon groaned within her mouth, caressing her tongue as his hands trailed up and down her back. It sent fire burning into the bottom of her belly, a strange stirring moved under her skin, a craving to feel his skin against hers. Sansa pulled back from his mouth to breath in the warm air, gasping lightly as he kissed her cheek then the hinge of her jaw, moving down towards her neck.

Jon pressed a wet kiss at the base of her throat then looked up at her. “How far are you willing to go?” he asked. Sansa raked her fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp as she considered his question for but a mere second. She knew how far she was willing to go.

“As far as you will let me,” she answered honestly, smiling when his eyes closed blissfully. When they opened again his dark grey eyes were so dark they were practically black at this point.

“Then you won’t be leaving my chambers tonight…”

Things moved quickly from there, Jon’s cloak was left behind on the floor as he took her towards his bedchambers hiding in the back. He shut the door there then pulled off his doublet followed by his tunic to reveal his bare chest for her eyes to feast upon. He was well built, sturdy and strong. Sansa gulped at the sight, taking in his taunt skin. He was a work of art as anything she had ever seen. Jon stared at her, waiting for some type of reject possibly. He would receive none from her. Slowly, never taking her eyes off him she tugged at the strings holding the front of her dress closed. His eyes kept shifting from gazing into hers to watching her fingers move nimbly with the ties. Once loosen he approached her, grabbing the arms of her dress and tugging them down. It didn’t take much for her dress to pool around her feet, leaving her in her shift.

Jon’s breath came faster as he lightly traced up her arms, taking in her silk shift. “I’ve…” Jon coughed, shaking his head as he cleared his throat then continued, “I’ve always dreamed of this, of you.”

Sansa felt her heart pound heavily beneath her breast. He dreamed of her? Dreamed of bedding her? The mere thought made her skin prickle in anticipation, gave her courage to pull the straps of her shift down her shoulders to join her dress at their feet. There was a sharp intake of breath followed by a softly spoken curse as Jon seemed to marvel at her nudity. She still had her smallclothes on, but her breasts were bared to his sight. “You’re beautiful,” he mumbled breathlessly, dropping his hands to her hips then lightly dragging his fingers up the curve of her waist up to touch his thumbs along the sides of her breasts.

It was like he was afraid to touch her. The thought made Sansa smile, made her boldly take a hold of his hands and close them over her breasts. The scratch of his callused palms simulated her nipples, making them pucker to life as he enclosed his hands around them. He mumbled, “So beautiful,” then he was kissing her again. His lips felt better the second time around, probably because she knew how to kiss and gained far more pleasure from it. His palms moved against her breasts, stirring more warmth beneath her skin and causing that strange pooling of heat between her legs. Her cunt felt wet, she noted.

Sansa moved her hands from his hair to drag her nails down his chest, smiling into his lips when he groaned at her touch. He gave her breasts a squeeze that made her moan his name then abruptly he released her to drop to his knees. His insistent fingers tugged at the strings of her smallclothes then it was falling to her feet, forgotten as her eyes connected with his. Sansa opened her mouth, aiming to ask him what he was doing when without warning his mouth started kissing her cunt, spreading her legs some as she felt his tongue lick through her folds. It was the strangest sensation she had ever felt, she didn’t know this was a possibility, or that he would ever want to place his mouth upon her cunt.

Yet gazing down there Jon was, mouth latched to her sex, tonguing through her folds as he practically feasted upon her. Fingers carded through his hair grasping, rooting him to her as Sansa tried to steady herself. Jon’s hands moved around her thighs, cupping her butt to help her stand, kneading the tender flesh as he sucked on her. The contrast between the red hair on her mound and the black hair on his head was exhilarating. His mouth wouldn’t let up, she could hear him swallowing her juices and that sent a shiver coursing down her spine while causing more heat to gather at her sex. His lips suddenly closed in on the bump at the top of her folds, sucking it into his mouth where he sweetly touched the tip of his tongue against it.

Sansa cried out, her thighs quivering as Jon continued his loving attack, drawing out more and more sparkling tingles of pleasure singing through her nerve endings. It seemed never ending, just continued to build and build and build. At this point she was practically sitting in his hands, her legs barely holding her weight anymore. Jon didn’t seem to mind, holding her to him with no escape as he kissed, sucked and feasted upon her cunt. Did he not have supper, she wondered faintly. Was she his meal? Or was she his dessert?

A hard suction against her bump brought an end to the building pleasure, everything was silent in her ears as a blinding flash of white came over her eyes as every nerve ending seemed to shake and quake in mind-numbing pleasure. Sansa wasn’t sure if it lasted a few seconds, or a few minutes, all she knew was that Jon had led her to lay on his bed as she caught her breath. He stood before the bed, lightly pawing at his beard to get the rest of her juices off him, lightly sucking his fingers as he gazed at her. He was a heathen, she thought jokingly, giving him a bright, dazed smile.

She lifted her arms up and waved her hands at him to come to her. She needed him in her arms, she needed his security cloaking her, she needed him. Jon nodded but didn’t make a move towards her, instead he started untying his breeches. He was quick to remove them, smallclothes included. Sansa felt her heart rate increase as she took in the sight of his penis. She had never seen one, truly. Rickon and Bran as babes weren’t the same thing as taking in a grown man’s cock.

It stood out from his body, curving upward slightly with a redden head that seemed to cry for attention. She also noticed the veins down the length of his cock to the hair at the base to his balls hanging underneath. Honestly, it was strange and alien looking, but she wanted nothing more than to feel him inside her. Slowly, cautiously he climbed onto the bed, crawling between her spread legs to hover above her. Sansa felt his cock touch the skin of her lower belly, it felt odd. She glanced down at it then back to Jon’s eyes.

“We don’t have to do this, we probably shouldn’t,” Jon stated but he didn’t sound like he intended to stop, only that if she wanted to he would. Sansa just smiled at him and traced his slightly wet beard with her fingers.

“I have want of no one but you, I want my first time to be with someone I love, truly.” He looked speechless upon hearing her words then nodded.

She knew the first time usually hurt, she knew she was supposed to bleed as indication of her maidenhead being taken but as Jon directed the head of his cock to her entrance she thought of nothing else but the pleasure he would get from their joining, and hopefully the pleasure she would get as well. It felt intrusive, a stinging stretch not different from reaching for something she clearly could not get no matter how much she stretched for it. The feeling that she was literally stretching to accommodate Jon’s cock was intense, but it didn’t hurt half as much as Jeyne had said it would. Maybe it had to do with her becoming so wet? He seemed to almost easily slide into her, squeezing his way in and filling her up in a way she never thought of before.

Sansa touched her abdomen where she could feel the slight burn of his cock buried inside her. Jon didn’t move once he was completely seated inside, just stayed put, letting her adjust. “Does it hurt?” he asked in a strained voice, he sounded more in pain than she did, Sansa thought.

“It burns a little, and a bit of stinging when you entered but…no, doesn’t hurt all that much,” she answered honestly, shifting her hips only to stop when he hissed. “Are you hurt?”

“No, not hurt,” Jon mumbled in a hiss, breathing through his nose harshly. “Definitely not hurt,” he assured her.

“Then can we start?”

Jon looked at her like she was a completely different person. Sansa puckered her lips at him in a pout then pressed her hips up so their abdomen’s touched and gaining a groan from his lips. That’s when Jon pulled his hips back, dragging his cock down the channel inside her then he was pushing back inside again. The act of sex was such a peculiar thing, she thought as he started to build a steady pace. Putting one’s sex into another’s and rubbing in and out till the male burst his seed inside the female. As strange as it was, the whole act seemed rather natural as well.

Sansa lifted up some to watch Jon’s cock pull out of her and enter again. There was still a slight burning inside her, but otherwise it felt immensely pleasant, not as much as when his mouth was down there, but more than she was ever expecting. “So odd,” she mumbled to which Jon snorted in laughter, dropping his face into her neck and blocking her view.

“Aye,” he agreed, his hips stuttering a little as he laughed. Sansa laughed as well then planted her heels into the mattress to meet his thrusts causing him to stumble again and making her laugh some more.

They continued the strange dance that was sex, laughing here and there while kissing and touching. Jon kept the pacing slow, mumbling he didn’t want to burst like a green boy. It allowed her time to feel that build up of pleasure again, both of their breathing coming out in slight pants as their pleasures built up. Jon reached down between them to press against her bump, circling his fingers as he thrusted inside her. Little jolts of pleasure tingled through her again, bringing close to peaking like before. Sansa gripped his shoulders while meeting his thrusts and locking his hand between their bodies.

Sweat accumulated during the act, gathering at her neck and the small of her back. Her thighs were quivering again, she was getting close to that peak once more. Jon stumbled mid-thrust then moaned her name so deeply it was more a growl than moan, that’s when she felt it. His seed filling up inside her, it was so hot. He stopped moving, but his fingers didn’t, pressing and swiping against her bump till she reached her peak. Jon groaned at how tight she became around his softening cock still buried inside her. Her peak wasn’t as big as the first one, but it wasn’t any less amazing and mind-numbing.

Jon laid down upon her, encasing her in his arms and warmth while his weight bared down on her. It was welcoming, the feeling of him being there with her. They stayed that way for quite a while, but before long his weight was making it hard for her to breath so he rolled off her, pulling out of her smoothly. Sansa sat up to peer down at her sex, drifting a hand down to feel his seed drip out of her. That was something no one told her, how messy sex could get. Her fingers rubbed his seed between them, observing how sticky and white it was. She peered over her shoulder to see Jon watching her quizzically.

“So odd,” she said again, he rolled his eyes then snatched her up against his chest where she pillowed her head.

It was quiet for so long, but she couldn’t fall asleep, her thoughts swirled around her head as she tried imprinting everything that had happened so she would forever remember it. She knew there would probably never be another chance.

“We shouldn’t have done this,” Jon eventually said in the stillness of the night air.

“We shouldn’t have, but we did, and I don’t regret it,” Sansa declared firmly, turning her head up to catch his eyes.

“He’ll expect you to bleed that first night,” Jon continued morosely, lightly trailing his fingers up and down her bare back. It felt nice.

“And there are many ways to fake it,” she countered. He nodded but still looked almost…regretful. “Do you regret it?”

“No!” he immediately stated, dropping his eyes to make sure she knew he meant the truth. “I just don’t want anything bad to happen to you.”

“The only bad thing that will happen is me leaving you.” Jon’s arms closed around her suddenly as they both came to the eventual conclusion. He couldn’t leave his post and she couldn’t break her betrothal, they were doomed even far more than being half-siblings.

“I love you, Sansa,” Jon announced softly, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I know I shouldn’t, I know it’s wrong and sinful, but I do. I love you.”

Tears pooled at the corners of her eyes as she held him to her. Half of her wished she never came to the wall to spare herself the heartache, but the rest of her was so happy she made the decision, regardless.

“Better to love and loss then to never love at all,” Sansa mumbled the words Old Nan had said to her once. She felt a wetness on her forehead and knew he was crying. “But we have tonight and the next nights till we depart, and I don’t intend on wasting them.” She pulled back to hover over him, seeing the watery eyes and trail of tears down the sides of his face. He nodded in agreement, allowing her to get on top of him.

They spent the rest of the night making love with her on top and then him again. The next few nights they spent together, cuddling and making love. Jon acquired moon tea for her, telling her fiercely to take it. Sansa went to her room that last night, gazing at the tea cup with the moon tea inside, waiting to be consumed.

Her hand dropped to her belly, knowing without a doubt that his seed had more than lightly quicken in her womb. She didn’t need to miss her moon’s blood to know that after the many nights they spent together. Logically she knew she should take the tea, to kill the process before it became too far along, yet she couldn’t bring herself to touch the cup much-less drain it of the liquid inside. In the end though she did pick up the cup then proceed to toss the contents out the window by her bed.

If she couldn’t have him completely then at least she could have his baby…

 

 

 **To be continued in ‘Day 7 – Pregnancy’** **^_~**  


	4. Fantasies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sum: Fantasy: a fanciful mental image, typically one on which a person dwells at length or repeatedly and which reflects their conscious or unconscious wishes. Was it real, or was it all fantasy? (Jon POV)

 

 

She was beautiful. That was something that hadn’t changed since Jon had last seen her. Her long auburn hair pulled together into a long braid, her high cheekbones flushed from the cold, and eyes red-rimmed but still brightly blue. Sansa was quite the sight for sore eyes, he couldn’t believe his eyes as he slowly walked down the stairs. He barely felt the cold as he came down to ground level, he couldn’t pull his eyes away even if he tried. The expression on her face, the relief yet uncertainty pulled at his heart.

Jon approached slowly, not sure if she was a dream, if she was a fantasy he created to cope with his rise from death. Was she a dream? The touch of snowflakes on his face told him it wasn’t a dream. His whole world centered on her, on that beautiful face that belonged to Sansa Stark, and no other. Jon gulped as he got closer, he was afraid. What if he touched her and she disappeared? What if it was just a fantasy? He wasn’t sure how he could survive such a vivid lie, he might just curl into a ball and die…again.

He stopped just short a few feet of her, watching. She blinked several times while he made his way, she was in the same amount of disbelief as he was. His heart started pounding inside his chest. Then she moved, arms shaking and before Jon realized what was going on he had already responded. Grasping his arms around her solid, real body as she wrapped her arms tightly around his shoulders and neck. Jon felt like he was breathing for the first time as he lifted her feet off the ground, cradling her to him so tight he was probably squeezing the breath from her. Sansa said nothing though, gave shuddering breaths as she clung to him. He felt her cheek nuzzle into the side of his head as he rocked her slightly side-to-side.

She was real, he thought as his eyes shut. Her smell invaded his senses, wood and the clean scent of snow mixed with sweat and horse. Jon didn’t care if she rolled around in swamp muck, she smelled amazing to him. She was real. He couldn’t get over the fact that he was holding his half-sister in his arms, that she willingly allowed him too. Memories of Sansa came to his mind as he held her, not all were pleasant, many contained her being bossy, or outright ignoring him when her Lady Mother was around. Yet there were the small ones, her smiling brightly when he snuck her a lemon cake from the kitchens, helping her clean muck from her hair from Arya being a hellion and even the one time she was little and accidently came to his chambers while intending to go to her parents.

Jon felt tears water in his eyes, she was real…

The next few weeks were nothing but work. Gathering an army to go against Ramsey, training the wildlings and arguing with Sansa. She hadn’t told him much of what she went through when it came to the current Warden of the North, only that she married him, and he was extremely unpleasant. It didn’t take a genius to figure out he hurt her while engaging in his martial rights. The thought made Jon’s blood boil beneath his skin, made he want to go right to Ramsey’s door and choke him to death. He told her everything that had happened to him, absolutely everything. Sansa held his hand when he recalled his death, he kept most of his reaction to himself, but he couldn’t hide the way his hand shook as he talked.

Sansa did tell him of her time in King’s Landing and beyond. Confiding in each other brought her closer to him than he had ever thought possible. For once he didn’t feel like a total outsider with her.

Jon found that he was having a hard time being alive again. The nightmares kept him awake at night, but it was the flashes of memories during his waking hours that messed with him the most. The red woman said it would come to pass, that his mind was coming to terms with his past and present conditions. Things would eventually center and balance, hopefully. She didn’t seem all that confident in her words as she normally was, Jon noted. He kept these matters to himself, he had a battle to wage and he didn’t want to worry Sansa any more than she already was.

He could see the stress resting on her shoulders, the anxiety making her face scrunched in worry and the tightness around her lips. She didn’t need to stress any more than was needed.

That’s when it started…

He kept thinking of Ygritte at first, her flaming hair, crooked smile and mischievous eyes gleaming at him. She kept appearing to him, flashes of her racing by him in the corner of his eyes. Then she would be touching him, a hand on his shoulder, a kiss on his cheek. They weren’t real, he knew that, she was dead. She wasn’t coming back, but that didn’t stop the illusions coming to him.

That didn’t stop the fantasies…

At night when he couldn’t sleep he would think about her, about the shared intimacies they had as few as they were. Jon found himself taking hold of his cock at night, bringing him to peaking as he fantasied Ygritte still alive and with him. Each night she would be there with him, each night it was her hand on his cock, her mouth, her cunt. Slowly though, his fantasies started to shift.

Jon didn’t know when it stopped being Ygritte that entered his fantasy world, when her flaming shade of red became shinier and lighter. When her crooked smile changed into a soft, demurred quirk of full lips. That mischievous gleam turned into gentle, knowing eyes that could look right into his soul. Jon didn’t take too much notice at first.

It was her hand on his cock, pumping him, up and down, up and down. Squeezing at the head of his cock then pulling back his foreskin to better reveal the reddening head that was literally weeping at the tip for release. “Should I put my mouth on it?”

Jon grunted, vaguely finding it weird that Ygritte would ask, she never asked just did as she wanted. Her mouth would already be sucking the life from his cock. “Should I lick it?” her voice asked in a much softer tone than he was used to hearing, there was no tough accent to her words. It didn’t sound like Ygritte at all, actually.

“Should I let you release your seed in my mouth?”

Jon’s eyes popped open to Sansa looking up at him with innocent eyes, hand closed around his cock and lips so tantalizingly close to his aching shaft. He opened his mouth in shock then her lips touched the edge of his cock’s head and he peaked. His hand prolonged the pleasure, groaning deeply in his chest as he rode his climax.

As everything settled, his eyes flung open and he looked down to see only his hand and nothing else. Jon wiped his soiled hand on the cot as he breathed deeply. When had Ygritte changed into Sansa? Guilt burrowed into his chest as he realized he had gotten off to the thought of his half-sister touching him. Disgust built up in his veins at the thought.

Hadn’t she been through enough? To use her image for something so dirty, so disgustingly. Jon spent the rest of that night berating himself…

Looking at her made him dizzy, he couldn’t look at her beauty and know that he pleasured himself to thoughts of her. Jon felt his jaw clench in frustration as he worked on battle plans with Davos. Tormund was taking over the training of the wildlings and bannermen in the meantime. Sansa made use of herself by doing some cooking, sewing up clothes and doublets, and anything else she could be helpful with. Jon was happy that she wasn’t in the tent with him, he wasn’t sure he could concentrate on his planning, nor could he look her in the eye after last night.

He avoided her without trying to be obvious about it for the remainder of the day. That night he laid on his cot and stared up at the ceiling, hoping to just sleep and not take himself in hand like he had been. Yet his body worked against him and like clockwork his cock started to harden, pushing against his smallclothes and breeches. Jon groaned in irritation, valiantly trying to ignore the ache between his legs as sleep eluded him. He wasn’t going to touch himself, he wasn’t going to fantasy of Ygritte, or possibly Sansa.

No, he thought defiantly, I am not going to touch myself.

Slowly sleep started to seep into the corners of his mind, drifting him into a semi-awake state. That’s when his hand gained a mind of its own. Jon moaned deeply as he closed a tight fist around his cock, dragging everything down his legs to have better access. His mind produced Ygritte, smirking at him as she hovered above him. “Hello Crow,” she murmured quietly, tracing patterns on his chest. She frowned at the fact he was still clothed, she always liked him bare chested even when they weren’t partaking in any sexual acts.

“Ygritte,” Jon moaned, closing his eyes when he felt her smaller, softer than his hand closing around his cock, pushing his away. “You know I can do it better,” she commented cockily, he could imagine the toothy grin on her lips as she started to pump her hand just short of aggressively. She could never do soft, slow, gentle. It wasn’t her way.

Her thumb swiped at his leaking head, smearing his seed around. It felt amazing. Jon mumbled her name again, running his scarred hand through her hair. Was it always so long? She suddenly stopped, her hand still held him tightly but there was no movement.

“Why do you keep calling me Ygritte?”

Jon choked as he opened his eyes to see Sansa sitting on her knees, hand delicately grasping the shaft of his cock as she posed her question to him. Why was she here again? He immediately closed his eyes, trying to bring back Ygritte, but when he opened them again it was Sansa still sitting there, waiting for his answer.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Jon explained, sitting up and pushing her hand away from him. She didn’t relent though, slowly she started to move her hand up his cock then slowly down it again. “Stop.”

“Why? You don’t like it?” Sansa asked innocently though her eyes betrayed her tone. She knew he liked it, she knew.

“It’s not suppose to be you,” he tried saying though it came more jumbled as she continued to slowly caress his cock, so different from Ygritte’s grip and movements.

“Yet I’m here,” she countered easily, smiling triumphantly. Jon moaned in defeat, falling back as he rubbed both of his hands over his face. She wasn’t supposed to be a part of his fantasy, it wasn’t right. He then told her as much. Sansa merely scoffed with a roll of her eyes. “Are you so sure it’s a fantasy?”

Jon felt his heart stop. Was he sure? He knew he was having issues differentiating between reality and fantasy, but he wasn’t having that hard of a time anymore. Like Melisandre had told him, he would eventually find his balance and his mind would settle. But was it? Sansa was still moving her hand, bringing him closer to his peak yet his hands were touching his face, weren’t they?

“You aren’t real,” Jon stated though it held a tone of questioning that did not escape Sansa. She raised an elegant eyebrow as he peered down his body at her from between his fingers.

“I’m as real as you believe.”

“And if I don’t believe you are real?” his question was left unanswered as her mouth suddenly became preoccupied.

Jon groaned as her lips closed around the head of his cock, sucking it hard then slowly descending down his shaft as far as she could before hitting the back of her mouth. Her hand squeezed what she couldn’t get into her mouth then Sansa started the slow process of bobbing her head up and down. His eyes opened to take in the scene before him. She had pulled her hair over one shoulder, so he could see her perfectly as she swallowed his cock. The noises of her sucking and trying to swallow his cock whole made goosebumps erupt on his skin.

Sansa’s tongue danced around his cock, enhancing the experience even more. If it was fantasy, then why did it feel so damn real? Jon reached down to run his fingers through her hair, it felt like he was touching her hair. Her eyes flicked up to gaze into his as she continued her bobbing. She then brought one of her hands up to his, making him direct her bobbing. Jon gripped the hair in his hand, forcing her down his cock then back up again. During each pass he’d get her to take a bit more of him. She made no protest, only constantly swallowing and sucking. He was so close, it was almost painful.

Jon started to shift his hips up as he pushed her mouth down, and before he knew it she had taken him almost completely. His cock inching down her throat before she was pulling up then swallowing him back down to his hips. The echoes of her moans as she did jolted every nerve ending in his body. Jon moaned her name, calling out to Sansa to not stop. Telling her she was amazing, she was taking him in so nicely. Sansa seemed to respond positively to his words, moving faster and faster.

“Sansa,” Jon mumbled warningly, not able to get his words out as his peak edged closer. She squeezed the hand on his head, letting him know it was alright. He stared down at her as she stared up at him then suddenly he was peaking, his seed bursting out of him and down her throat where she stayed till she practically sucked him dry. He was so sensitive that it hurt when she pulled his cock out of her mouth, watching as it flopped, limply to the side. “Sansa,” he moaned softly, bringing his hand to touch her cheek and rub her bottom lip where a little bit of his seed had escaped her mouth. He smeared it across as he watched her.

Slowly she crawled up his body, pressing him down flat as she gazed down from above. Her hand came up to touch his cheek then opened his mouth where she dropped down to kiss him, transferring his seed between them. Jon had never tasted his seed before, it was salty and strange, but with her lips there it was more than tolerable. Her tongue wrapped around his, rubbing his seed in as she deeply kissed his lips. Jon swallowed as she pulled back, heated eyes almost lighting him aflame.

Suddenly he felt so tired, barely able to hold his eyes open. “Are you real?” Jon asked quietly as his eyes started to drift shut. Sansa gave him an impish smile, taking his hand to press a soft kiss to the center of his palm.

“Are you?” she asked just as darkness eclipsed his vision…

Jon woke abruptly, tangling in his breeches and falling off the cot to the hard, cold ground. His face scrunched in pain as he pulled himself back to his knees. It was early morning, light just peeking into his tent. He quickly looked about him to see he was definitely alone. Slowly he pulled up to his feet, righting his breeches then looked at his furs. Normally he’d have a dried mess to deal with, but for all he could see there wasn’t really any. His breeches had a little of his dried seed, but not as much as normal…then he remembered her kiss full of semen. His mouth felt dry and a tinge salty.

Was it all fantasy? Jon thought as he scraped off the dried seed from his breeches. As disgusting as the thought was, he could have very well swallowed his own seed as he was so engrossed in his fantasy, she may not have ever been there but in his mind. Yet it felt incredibly real though, but then lately his fantasies had been feeling very real, even the ones with Ygritte swallowing his seed yet there was usually a larger mess. But if Sansa really was visiting him then why? Did she care about him much more than was appropriate? Clearly Jon was feeling more than he should, guilt pitted down in his stomach as he washed himself off.

He needed to get a damn grip!

The minute he saw Sansa his face started to heat up, he found it hard to look her in the eyes. He stumbled over his words with her new dress, she seemed rather pride and excited as she handed him his new cloak. The cloak felt heavy on his shoulders as the weight of guilt bared down upon them. Things were becoming more and more troubling than they use to be, he wasn’t sure what was worse, the whole ordeal about to go down with Ramsey, or his sick fantasies about his sister…

They met up with Ramsey that morning, the sun hid behind clouds that threatened to let rain fall. Jon held his emotions at bay, wanting nothing more than to beat the snare from his mouth and make the man wish he never laid eyes on Sansa. He declined a one-on-one battle, he knew Ramsey would never consent to it, but it was worth a try, it was worth trying to anger him. His heart skipped a beat as Sansa left them in a hurry, he kept his eyes on Ramsey though really, he wanted to watch her go.

Before they departed Ramsey gave his last few words in, Jon felt a shudder of angry rumble through his chest as those words repeated in his head.

_“She’s a fine woman, your sister. I look forward to having her back in my bed.”_

Jon felt a tremor run through him as he heard those words repeated in his head, Ramsey’s voice pestering him left and right. It urged him to check and double check his plans, talking with Davos and Tormund through the afternoon till nightfall. Sansa stood on the outer skirts of their meeting, watching and waiting like she had been for the others. He could tell she was lying in wait, waiting for the moment to pounce on him like she had the last few weeks. He almost wished to not be alone with her, but low and behold they were left alone once everyone departed to sleep before the battle in the morning.

Sitting down he rubbed at his forehead, exhaustion edging at him as his mind tumbled over everything, the battle to come, the Night King, saving Rickon, and finally, Sansa…

“So, you’ve met the enemy,” she started, strolling away from her corner like a wolf on the prowl. “Drawn up your battle plans.” She directed her eyes down to the table with their plans littered about.

“Aye,” Jon sighed, leaning back to regard her, “for what their worth.”

“You’ve known him for the space of a single conversation, you and your trusted advisors, and you sit around making your plans on how to defeat a man you don’t know,” Sansa started off, her tone stern and just a tad condescending. “I lived with him. I know the way his mind works, I know how he likes to hurt people.” Jon looked up at her as he thought about what she meant by, ‘likes to hurt people’.

“Does it ever once occur to you that I might have some insight?” she asked patiently, waiting for him to respond.

“You’re right,” Jon agreed, realizing maybe he should have pulled her into the planning more, maybe she could have brought something to the table they hadn’t thought of.

“You think he’s going to fall into your trap, he won’t. He’s the one who lays traps.”

“He’s overconfident,” Jon challenged.

“He plays with people,” she claimed, waving her hand at him as she continued, “He’s far better at it than you, he’s been doing it all his life.”

“Aye, and what have I been doing all my life, playing with broomsticks?” Jon commented as he stood up abruptly, Sansa pulled back from the table, watching him with an edge of weariness. It sting to see her react that way, if as she was expecting him to explode at her, to hurt her. “I fought beyond the wall against worse than Ramsey Bolton, I’ve defended the wall from worse than Ramsey Bolton.”

“You. Don’t. Know. Him,” Sansa said, every word practically punctuated as she stated her point. Jon shook his head in acknowledgement.

“Alright, tell me. What should we do, how do we get Rickon back?” Jon couldn’t think of anyway that they could do different to get their little brother back otherwise. He either fought Ramsey’s army, or their brother dies without them even trying.

“We’ll never get him back,” Sansa stated softly, sadness shining in her eyes. Jon felt an emptiness in his stomach. “Rickon is Ned Stark’s trueborn son which makes him a greater threat to Ramsey than you, a bastard, or me, a girl,” she explained as clinically as possible. “As long as he lives Ramsey’s claim to Winterfell will be contested which means…he won’t live long.” She looked down as she completed her sentence.

“We can’t give up on our brother,” Jon insisted, he could not try to save him. He was but a boy, barely lived his life. He couldn’t let Rickon die so easily.

“Listen to me, please. He wants you to make a mistake,” Sansa stated, irritation hinted in her words.

“Of course, he does.” Jon moved around the table separating them, gesturing to the plans as he asked heatedly, “What should I do differently?”

“I don’t know, I don’t know anything about battles just,” Sansa said shaking her head then clasped her hands together in front of her as she pleaded, “just don’t do what he wants you to do.”

“Aye, it’s good advice,” he said sarcastically, wanting to roll his eyes at her suggestion. It was the night before he would risk his life to gain Winterfell back, to try and get Rickon back and that was all she could give him. Jon felt a pounding in his head coming on.

“You think that’s obvious,” she asked.

“Well, it is a bit obvious,” he agreed.

“If you’d ask for my advice earlier I would have told you not to attack Winterfell until we had a larger force, or is that obvious too?” Sansa inquired condescendingly.

“When would we have a larger force?! We’ve pleaded with every house that’ll have us, the Blackfish can’t help us. We’re lucky to have this many men!” Jon said as his voice got louder with each statement.

“It’s not enough!” Sansa yelled back, her eyes wide as she stared into his.

“No, it’s not enough! It’s what we have!” he declared just as loudly, looking into her eyes and hoping she could see that he knew. He knew they didn’t have enough men, he knew they were destine to fail, he knew he would most likely die tomorrow. He fucking knew! Why couldn’t she understand that? Both of their breathing came out harshly as the tension in the room made it almost stifling as they gazed at each other. Jon felt the urge to pull her to him come over him, to stop the words of truth from leaking through her mouth with his.

To assure her that they could win, if only they believed it so…

“Battles have been won against greater odds,” Jon stated slowly, glancing down to her feet before slowly raking them up her body to catch her eyes again. Sansa turned away first, looking towards the ceiling as she composed herself then turned her head back to him. Her face was stern again.

“If Ramsey wins, I’m not going back there alive. Do you understand me?” The seriousness in her tone, the determination in her eyes scared him. He knew without a doubt she could, and she would kill herself before that happened, before she let that vile man touch her again. Jon would sooner die than let Ramsey Bolton ever touch Sansa again.

“I won’t ever, let him touch you again,” he said gruffly, emotion taking hold of his voice. “I’ll protect you, I promise.”

Her expression never changed, there was no emotion showing as she said, “No one can protect me, no one can protect anyone.”

Jon stared after her as she left the tent. His shoulders sagged, and defeat echoed in his bones. He wasn’t sure he could do this, if she didn’t believe in him then, how could he? Before he got to bed that night, he talked to Melisandre, telling her not to bring him back if he fell. Jon wasn’t sure he could handle living again, not after what he experienced as his mind tried to balance itself, not if Sansa wasn’t among the living…

It was late, he knew. Sleep came in and out, he ignored any stirring in his lower region. He didn’t need it, not now, not ever…

He felt the cot shift, felt the warmth of someone lying next to him, practically on top of him. A hand lightly brushed through his hair, pushing it off his forehead as he felt eyes gazing at him through the dark. A finger then started to stroke his beard, fingering the individual hairs before tracing around his lips. “Stop,” he mumbled, twitching his nose as he shook his head.

“No,” he heard her say, her finger moving to touch his lips now.

“Please stop,” Jon begged sadly, brushing his lips against the tip of her finger that stayed put.

“We might die tomorrow,” Sansa said, deep sorrow tinted in her voice. He opened his eyes to take her in, her hair was braided still though there was loose hairs here and there indicating some sleep. She’s not real, he thought. Another fantasy, his last fantasy.

“If we continue,” Jon started, sitting up and forcing her to sit up as well. He gazed deeply into her eyes, making sure she understood though it didn’t matter. This wasn’t the real Sansa. “I’m not stopping.” He hoped that would scare her, if it was really her then that would surely scare her. He knew, he knew.

Sansa looked down in thought, taking his words into consideration before she looked up at him with determination glittering in her eyes. “I’d rather you then…” she never completed her statement, cradling his cheek and bringing him to her till their lips touched.

It felt real like all the other times, the touching, the kissing. Jon craved for it to be real, but he knew it wasn’t. Sansa would never lower herself to something so disgraceful, so sinful. Her moans were delicate, her touches soft and eyes piercing. Jon couldn’t shed his clothes fast enough, couldn’t contain the need for release, the need to forget what’s to come that morning. Her nightrail joined his clothes on the dirty ground, baring their skin to each other. She touched his scars, he kissed hers.

Jon kissed her neck, her collarbone, her beautiful breasts with their rosy tips that puckered to attention, her stomach and finally her cunt. She tasted better than he ever imagined, she responded so sweetly, covering her mouth as she cried out. Raking her fingers through his loose hair as he kissed and sucked her wet folds. Arching when his lips closed around her clit, slowly prodding her entrance with a finger. Sansa’s legs quaked and quivered as he devoured her. Drinking up every last drop, knowing fantasy or not it might be the last time he ever gets too.

He pressed another finger into her, curling them upward along with her hips as she followed. She peaked just like that, he watched her with dark eyes, seeing the transition of pleasure filter through her facial expressions. Sansa seemed surprised by the pleasure, like it was the first time she ever felt it. Jon made sure she would feel it again, and again, and again. She begged him to stop then begged him not to stop as she tugged at his hair, keeping him put as he brought her to peak a second time then a third. She laid limp when he finally surfaced, her eyes glazed over as she watched him. If he couldn’t give her true pleasure in real life, he could at least do so in his fantasy world that seemed to blur what was real and what wasn’t.

Sansa grabbed the back of his neck, dragging him to her lips where they battled tongues for what seemed like ages. She even grabbed his sticky fingers, sucking her juices from them as she watched him heatedly. Jon groaned, burying his face into her neck as he listened to her sucking his fingers. It was her who grabbed a hold of his cock, teasing her entrance with his head. Jon leaned back to catch her eyes, to gaze into them as he pushed into her. She looked uncomfortable though. He stopped, he would never force her, he never intended on continuing if she didn’t want it. He observed her a moment longer before standing up. Sansa called out his name, panic in her voice.

He reached out for her hands, pulling her to stand before laying down himself. “Ride me,” he said with a deep, groggy voice, helping her straddle his hips.

Sansa looked unsure, placing her hands on his chest as she hovered over his erect cock. “Take your time,” he assured, smiling softly. She nodded then started rubbing the head of his cock between her folds, allowed it to slide through her wet skin and bump against her clit. She shook each time and a jolt raced through his cock each time as well. Slowly Sansa let the head probe her entrance, getting a little bit in before pulling back. She continued this dance for several minutes, each pass allowing herself to sink down the shaft of his cock.

She peered down at his face, watching him as he laid there and allowed her to do as she pleased. His hands stayed by her knees, rubbing his thumbs on her skin as a form of encouragement. Suddenly, without warning, she dropped down on his cock, sheathing him within her body. Jon choked out a groan, hands gripping her hips with his eyes shut tight. Her answering moan made him look at her to see the pure pleasure she was in; her lips open in a small ‘o’ as her head was tiled back. Gradually she started to rotate her hips, allowing her spongy walls to grip him while seemingly massaging him. He was going to burst, he could feel it fast approaching.

“Sansa, stop,” Jon said, forcing her hips to stop all movement.

“Why?” she asked breathlessly, her tone just short of annoyed.

“I will not peak inside you,” he announced firmly. Sansa merely looked at him like he was stupid, like he was ignorant.

“I thought I wasn’t real, I thought I was a fantasy? What difference does it matter then?” Her questions made sense, but he felt it wasn’t right. She wasn’t real, he thought, though his body said she was. He couldn’t tell anymore. “What if I told you I wanted your seed if I was real? Would you do that for me?”

Jon groaned. “If you are real, and that’s what you want? Then yes, I would.”

Sansa leaned till her lips were a breath away from his, her eyes boring into his. “I’m very, very real,” she uttered then she was pulling back from him. She used his hands as leverage to bounce in his lap, entwining their fingers as she moved up and down. Jon couldn’t say a word, couldn’t piece together a simple thought as he took in her beauty.

She was real, she wasn’t a fantasy. He wanted to ask her why, why she would do this with him, sin with him. She wasn’t sinning against him, he would willingly go to all seven hells for her, with her if that was what she wanted. Sansa squeezed his hands to gain his attention, her breasts bounced with her movements making him want to imprint the sight into his brain for the rest of his life, be it short or long. “Why?” he croaked as pleasure sparked down his spine, he was so close.

“Because…it was my decision,” she stated so clearly with so much assurance. “And I decided I wanted you, no matter what happens.” Jon sat up abruptly, locking their entwined hands between their chests. “I want you, no matter what,” Sansa repeated, eyes sparkling with tears.

“No matter what,” he echoed.

Their lips met softly as she squeezed his cock tightly causing him to peak within her. Her eyes fluttered as he felt his seed flood her channel. In the back of his mind he knew they shouldn’t have, he knew it was wrong, but he didn’t care. She didn’t care. Whatever tomorrow held for them, life or death, it did not matter to either.

No matter what…

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to be sure everyone knows that this isn't dubious consent, both consented they wanted to have sex with each other regardless that Jon originally thought it was a fantasy up till the end, as for the second occurrence...was it real? Was it fantasy? You tell me! ^_~
> 
> p.s- I hope ya'll enjoyed my writing of the show events, I spent forty-five minutes watching and writing the tent scene so I could get is absolutely perfect. At first I wasn't going to include it for this oneshot, but after spending so much time I decided to stick with it. I also had a hell of a time figuring out a story for this prompt, so I hope this was up to par! ^_~


	5. Getting Caught

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sum: Arya catches a couple partaking in sex. (Arya POV)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is shorter than my others, but I thought it was an interesting idea. Enjoy! ^_~

 

 

One of Arya’s favorite pastimes was sneaking around Winterfell, listening in on the local gossip and secrets. She never got caught, always too quick, too silent, too sneaky. She felt prideful when she could learn something before everyone else without being found out. Yet, Arya would soon find out that being stealthy and silent didn’t always work in her favor…

She wasn’t intending on spying on anyone, she just walked so lightly on her feet that no one knew she was there. Arya was walking down an empty corridor in a mostly unused section of Winterfell when she heard what sounded like a struggle happening two doors down. She instantly frowned and moved swiftly yet silently towards the door in question.

It wasn’t shut all the way, leaving a crack for Arya to peer through and see what was going on within. She knew this wing of the castle wasn’t used for anything, she also never came across anyone whenever she wandered about here either. The room was dark with only one candle to make shadows dance on the walls and ceiling. It was through the dim candle lighting that she made out two people in the center of the room.

It was a man with broad shoulders who had his back towards her, the other she assumed was a woman by the skirts of her dress hanging over the side of the table she happened to be perched upon. Arya couldn’t make out who exactly they were with the dim lighting, but she could make out what the situation was. It was a struggle as she assumed, but of a whole other kind. The man was pulling up the woman’s skirts, baring her stocking covered legs. The woman was completely leaned back on the table so Arya could not see her face, but she could just see her hands clutching at the man’s shoulders almost desperately. Her legs were spread out wide, making room for him to fit his wide shoulders and head in between.

Arya found this position very peculiar, why would he put his face so close to the woman’s cunt? It did not escape her notice that there was a pair of smallclothes on the ground by his feet. Suddenly his face dropped to her cunt and the woman cried out in pleasure. A hot flash ran down Arya’s face and spine as she witnessed the sexual act.

Seeing people participate in sex was nothing new for her. She had seen many things at such a young age that it hardly fazed her now. It also helped that she partook in sexual acts with Gendry, but she had never done that with him. The idea never came to her mind, to have Gendry’s mouth on her cunt? What would that exactly feel like? It seemed pleasant enough from the sounds of it.

The man seemed to enjoy it as much as the woman, she noted, he was making muffled groans as he seemingly mouthed at her cunt. Arya felt suddenly really warm, a pooling of heat centering between her legs. It was the noises that got to her the most, how she could hear him sucking at her folds and slurping up her juices that dripped from the woman’s sex. Her hips were rubbing up and down his face, finding her pleasure as he feasted upon her.

Arya’s mouth felt dry, her thighs squeezed against each other to relieve the ache between them. She wanted to leave because it seemed so wrong to stand there creepily at the door, peering through a crack at the couple, yet she felt compelled to stay and witness what else they’ll do. She was intrigued by the sexual act the man was performing. Neither she, nor Gendry were well versed in the arts of sex, honestly, they’ve only begun to explore the possibilities together.

The only way to learn is to watch, Arya thought as she pushed away the thoughts of guilt at spying on the couple.

She wondered if his mouth started to hurt after a while as he continued to make a meal out of the woman’s cunt. His hands blindly touched her covered breasts then held her questing hips down as her moans elevated louder and louder. Arya felt like she knew that voice, but she couldn’t pinpoint where though. The woman cried out even louder, her legs quaking as they closed around his head. Her fingers raked through his dark hair as she finished peaking.

Arya felt tingles go down her back at the thought that he brought her to her peak with just his mouth. She watched as he pulled her legs from around his head and crawled up her body where Arya could hear them kissing. Right after his mouth was on such an intimate place? It vaguely disgusted her yet more heat pooled at her own cunt.

The man was apparently not done yet as he pulled back to stand fully and work at the strings of his breeches. A voice at the back of her mind told her she needed to leave, to give this couple their privacy but her feet refused to move. Arya stood frozen in place and short of death could make her move. His breeches and smallclothes dropped to his feet to reveal a pale, muscular butt. She could see his arm moving in front of him, guiding his cock to the entrance of the woman’s cunt.

Mutual groans echoed between them as he seemingly slid in. Arya gripped the doorframe as he started thrusting into the woman, starting at a steady pace. The sound of his skin slapping hers while thrusting consumed the small room with their moans accenting here and there. They made sex seem so natural, so flawless.

Though Arya enjoyed having sex with Gendry, it always started off awkward. Where to put their hands? Should they kiss while he thrusted? Should he stay on top, or should they switch? It was a strange juggling act that never seemed near as natural as the couple before her. Maybe that came with time and experience?

His pacing sped up as he pressed his hips harder into her causing her voice to grow louder. That’s when he pulled his body up from hers, dragging her up so she was sitting upright while he stood. Even with the dim lighting there was no mistaking who the woman was.

Arya felt her mouth drop as she witnessed Sansa holding the man to her, gasping and moaning as she gazed at him with loving eyes. If that was Sansa, she thought, then the man could only be…

Jon turned his face towards her as their lips met all while he continued his fast-paced thrusting. Arya didn’t know what disturbed her more, that she unknowingly watched her sister and once brother turned cousin engaging in sex, or that she was continuing to watch the couple all the while knowing who they were to her.

Finally, Arya snapped out of her trance and flung herself from the door to lean back against the wall. Echoes of their lovemaking seeped through the cracked door, invading her jumbled mind. Quickly yet silently she strode away from the scene in hopes that it being out of sight would then be out of mind.

What was it father use to tell her years ago?

Be careful sneaking around and being underfoot, Arya, curiosity killed the cat.

It most certainly had, Arya thought in despair, flashes of Sansa and Jon kept running through her mind. Maybe it wasn’t all for not though.

Gendry looked up from his welding, broad smile came to his lips as he took notice of her. Maybe she did learn a thing or two…

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might do something like this idea again for another oneshot, I intended to have it be funnier and have Arya catch them doing the dirty left and right like bunnies, but that is not what I wrote so that idea might get used again for what I truly intended. I hope y'all enjoyed regardless! ^_~


	6. Forbidden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sum: Sansa finds solace in Jon's arms at night where nightmares come for her, things get out of hand when one feels no guilt for the forbidden. (Sansa POV)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope y'all enjoy because I spent way too much time figuring this one out, worse than fantasy! So much worse! I wrote three other oneshots for this one, but they didn't feel right, it convey how forbidden this relationship is when at least three of my oneshots previously have stated much the same. I only just wrote this so please excuse any blunders and misspellings/errors. I must go to bed now for work!
> 
> 12/7/17: Revised and edited!

 

 

 

It was pure and adulterated irony, she reflected as the sweat slowly dried on her skin. She had been the one wanting to fight to get Winterfell back, she was the one who pushed and pushed, and now…now she was home, but it felt less like home this second time than it did the first time she came here. Sansa kicked the furs off her body, feeling like she was suffocating from their oppressing heat. They’ve been here, back home for two weeks now and still she suffered from nightmares and night terrors. She looked about the room, picturing the horrible things that happened within these four walls, within this castle.

She took a deep breath that sounded more like a sob and curled up into a ball. Her body ached from phantom touches, her heart felt like it was bleeding, and she felt like she couldn’t breathe. Each shuddered breath wracked her body causing more tears to drip like a never-ending waterfall from her eyes. Sansa just wanted it to stop, she just wanted to sleep through the night without feeling the false weight of someone on top of her, without feeling like her world was nothing but gloom and darkness when she woke up. It wasn’t, not anymore.

She found comfort in her parent’s old bedchamber, found solace in Jon’s insistence she take the room, and she found relief in knowing Jon was only one door over from her. Sometimes her shouts and screams while within a night terror would wake Jon through the thick, stone walls and he’d burst in, ready to fight whoever came after her. Sansa would wake to him touching her shoulder, sad eyes watching her carefully as she came back to the waking world. She felt guilt at the scratches she left on his arms and sometimes his face, she felt ill-at-ease knowing he probably heard things she never wanted to say in his presence. Jon never said a word of what he heard or seen, he would comfort her with soothing words, brushing sweat slick hair from her forehead.

He’d go to leave once her breathing came back to normal and when she didn’t look as manic, she was sure. Each time she would feel the words on her tongue, ready to roll off and into spoken words for him to hear, but she held her tongue, watched him leave with an absolute clap of the door shutting between them. Sansa felt more alone after he left than she did when she went to bed. She wanted to ask him to stay, to hold her hand, to hold…her.

Sansa felt another sob shake through her body as she forced each cry, each tear out of her body while forcing each cracked and shattered piece of her soul back together again. She hated crying, hated the way it made her feel so vulnerable, so weak, so alone. Tears never helped her when she was in King’s Landing, if nothing else they brought even more pain. Tears never helped her here in Winterfell when Ramsey Bolton took over, they only brought the pain ten-fold. Yet now, tears would help her even though they disgusted her. They would help to shed away the outer layer of her pain-torn soul, help her eventually heal, or so she told herself as she soaked her pillow.

She would get better, she would heal, she would feel whole again…

Eventually…

The door opened a crack startling her to sit up. Jon poked his head into the room, lips turned down into a frown as he regarded her in the dark. He cleared his throat behind his hand then drew his eyes away from her glistening cheeks and red-rimmed eyes. A full moon outside her windows allowed some of it’s light to shine in, illuminating the room with silvery strips of moonlight.

“Sansa, are you…” Jon stopped, lips pressed into a thin line as he probably realized that asking if she was okay was rather redundant with her tear soaked face. “Do you need me?” he finally asked, boring his stare into her eyes, into her very soul that cried out for comfort, for his comfort.

Sansa couldn’t bring her throat to function and allow words to vocalize so she nodded instead. Jon swiftly slipped through the door, shutting it soundly before approaching her bed. He looked uncertain before dropping to sit on the edge of her bed, reaching out to grasp her hand in his. She brought a small, barely visible smile to her lips and gave his hand a squeeze. A corner of his lips lifted as he squeezed back.

They sat in silence for a while, her tears silently escaping her eyes as he sat there, holding her hand. It gave her more comfort then she could ask for. Once her tears stopped flowing did Jon get ready to leave. Her eyes widen while her hand closed tightly around his to keep him from leaving. Jon’s face scrunched up in confusion, taking in her panicked expression and the way she refused to let his hand go. “Do you want me to stay?”

“Don’t…” Sansa gulped drily, closing her eyes as she willed the strength to say the words that she needed the most. “Don’t leave.”

“Alright,” he agreed, coming back to sit down. Sansa quickly slid further down her bed, so she laid there, watching as he looked a tad uncomfortable sitting there.

“Lay with me,” she instructed, squeezing his hand again. He looked unsure if he should, but when she repeated her words again he reluctantly slid down above her furs till his head laid upon her pillow. He stared up at the ceiling while she laid on her side, her eyes watching him carefully.

He looked extremely tense, like he was ready for an attack, or something. Maybe this was a bad idea, Sansa thought sadly, only wanting him to be her comfort, to help keep the nightmares at bay. “You don’t have to,” she mumbled in despair, it wasn’t right anyway. To have her brother laying in her bed with her like a husband would his wife, it was wrong of her to ask him. Jon turned to her, regarding her silently. A traitor tear escaped her eye, slowly making a descent down her cheek.

“I want too,” Jon stated quietly, his voice gravelly as he spoke. The sound sent a shiver down her spine. His eyes warmed up as he stared at her, he looked less tense now.

“Could you,” she started then shook her head, he had already been uncomfortable before, no need to make it worse.

“Could I what?” Jon asked with that same deep, gravelly voice that made her stomach flutter in anticipation, of what she was uncertain. His dark grey eyes seemed to soften more as though he could see the inner dilemma going on inside her head. Nothing ever seemed to go unseen by his observant eyes, he missed nothing. “Sansa,” he implored softly.

“Could you hold me?” she finally whispered her question, closing her eyes instantly so she couldn’t see how tense her words made him, how uncomfortable he would become while all she wanted was his comfort.

Sansa’s eyes remained clenched shut, but she could feel movement shift around on the mattress then a hand pressed in the middle of her back before she was pulled into a hard, warm chest. She could feel his chin on top of her head, feel the gulp he took as his arm gently laid on her body. His left hand was still trapped within her grasp between their bodies while her other hand grabbed a hold of his tunic, closing around the fabric as she buried her face into his neck and collarbone. Sana let out a shuddering breathe as she relaxed into his warm embrace.

It felt better than she could ever imagine, the feeling of his body touching hers, his hand settled on her back though his thumb kept rubbing up and down through her nightrail, soothing her. She felt safe in his arms, she felt secure, she felt…home…

That night started a trend between them. Whenever her night terrors got the best of her he’d come, no questions asked, no other words spoken except her name then he was cradling her in his arms, rocking her back to sleep while quietly assuring her that the nightmares couldn’t get her anymore. Sansa found sleep more easily with his arms around her, found the will to fight back her nightmares knowing he was there with her. Nights became weeks of this development, Jon almost rarely slept in his own chambers anymore.

He’d wake up generally before her, leaving to go back to his own chambers before anyone knew otherwise. Sansa hated waking up alone. The first few times it happened she thought she had dreamt him coming to her altogether, but low and behold he’d appear each night after she woke with tears and sweat glistening on her skin. His heavy, dark eyes watching her with such concern within them. Half of her wanted to beg him not to leave in the morning, wanting to wake with his arms wrapped so delicately around her, but she knew it would be too much to ask of him.

If anyone ever knew it would not end well for her, Lady of Winterfell and him, King in the North. There was a line that should not be crossed, a line that was forbidden of them to cross. She was sure it never crossed Jon’s mind, but it had crossed hers plenty of times, she hated to admit. She hadn’t noticed her changing feelings towards her half-brother till one morning she woke up before he did…

Sansa stirred to full wakefulness, the sunlight showing a grey through her windows. The gloomy lighting hadn’t woken Jon it seemed since his arms were still wrapped around her though it was her back pressed to his front. A smile came to her lips as she snuggled further into his embrace. This was the first time she had woken before he had, the first time she could relish in the feeling of his strong arms around her body, holding her in secure place. She pushed back even further so not only her head and back were snug to his neck and chest, but also tangling her legs with his and pressing her bottom into his front.

She hadn’t thought about the circumstances of his position till she felt something hard press against her butt cheek. Sansa froze immediately as fear seized her heart, the sensation was too familiar. Her breathing became rapidly for a moment before she closed her eyes and forced a deep breath into her lungs then held it for a few seconds before releasing it slowly through her clenched teeth. It wasn’t the same, she thought, it wasn’t the same. She heard Jon mumble something in his sleep, his arms tightened around her body, forcing her to be pressed up against his erection within his breeches.

This time fear only licked at her insides, a different sensation came over her, overriding her fear to leave behind a tickling, flutter in her stomach and tingles of pleasure erupting around the area where his erection pressed so tenderly. Did this happen every morning? Is this one of the reasons Jon made sure he woke before she did? Sansa could remember many mornings to find his warmth cooling from behind her rather than her front where she had fallen asleep against his front. Shifting around in their sleep wasn’t uncommon.

Sansa sighed softly, tingles traveling through her ribs where his hand held her to him, just a few inches underneath her breasts. It was a strange occurrence of the sensations racing through her. Fear and disgust fought harshly against her pleasure and sense of security she felt knowing who it was holding her. She knew the things Ramsey did to her would always try to hold her back from ever finding intimacy with anyone else again, she knew it wouldn’t be an easy road, but she also fought hard against it. With Jon it was so easy though, so easy to reach out to him and grab his hand, his arm.

To endure his gaze boring into her, to anticipate and enjoy when he touched her back, a tightening of his hand on hers, a brush of his fingers on her wrist or shoulder in passing, and even the sweet, tender kiss he pressed into her forehead not so long ago. He lingered longer than was appropriate she had thought then, realized how inappropriate it was now as she wiggled her bottom against his harden cock.

The forbiddances of this situation made it that much more delicious in its dark, sinfulness.

Jon shifted behind her, almost rutting against her before he froze in place. Sansa kept her breathing smooth and even, pretending to sleep as she heard him groan lowly. Then he was pulling away from her, his fingers trailing across her ribs and waist before his warmth disappeared altogether as he removed himself from her bed. She heard him curse, heard him make his way towards her door where there was a pause of noise and she felt his eyes on her. She almost stuttered in her breathing while his eyes stayed on her being. She breathed better as her eyes fluttered open when she heard her door shut.

A blush came to her cheeks as she remembered the feeling of him pressed so smoothly against her. An ache echoed from between her legs, she rubbed her thighs together to try and relieve it. Sansa never thought she would ever feel like this again, never thought she would be able to get over the torment of Ramsey Bolton. Yet she was feeling aroused.

The only question was; did she feel like this because of the situation she woke up to, or because it was Jon?

After that morning she never woke again before he left her, but that did nothing for how aroused she felt those mornings. It didn’t affect the strange tension bubbling up between them during the day either. There seemed to be a weight in the air every time she entered a room and he noticed her. Was it him? Was it her? Sansa figured it could be both of them, Jon feeling guilty for waking with an erection while cuddling her for her comfort all the while she was feeling a forbidden attraction arising for him, something no sister, half or otherwise, should feel towards a brother.

It was odd that she didn’t feel guilt, that she openly accepted her growing feelings without repercussion. Did Joffrey and Ramsey mess her up so badly that she forgot all propriety? Did this incestual longing for Jon come to be because of the torment she went through? Was it all in her head? Sansa found no answers to her questions and honestly, she wasn’t concerned to answer them either. She did her best to hide her feelings from him and everyone around them. Littlefinger lingered about the castle walls, watching with ever observant eyes and whispering dark and traitorous words in her ears. They went through one ear and out the other though.

Sansa had no interest in being Queen, not for the North and surely not for the South. For once her mind seemed clearer than it has ever been, she was able to see through his sweet and sugar laced words for what they truly were. Jon also made it his mission to keep her from being alone with Littlefinger for too long. It couldn’t be coincidence that Davos, Tormund, Lady Mormont and even Jon, himself, would intervene between her and Petyr whenever he caught her alone. Brienne was a constant shadow for her as well.

It brought strength to her, to know that people cared about her well-being, even if only a little.

Her feelings not only caused tension between Jon and her, but she grew more and more jealous as women around the castle grounds interacted with Jon. The serving maids, kitchen wrenches and the other maids that worked around Winterfell would find some reason, or another to speak with him. There was burning inside her chest whenever she came upon a scene of some woman laughing sweetly as she spoke with Jon. He was so approachable for a King, she would hear them saying behind their hands and blushes gracing their cheeks.

If only they knew he came to her bed each night, it may not be for what most men came to a woman’s bed for, but the sediment was all the same.

Still the little green beast reared its ugly head at every chance, every moment it could. She hated the way Jon didn’t seem to notice the attention women gave him, hated how he unknowingly encouraged it. Sansa bit her tongue to keep from lashing out at one maid who thought it was within her rights to lay a hand on Jon’s arm as she smiled prettily at him. That was the only time he seemed uncomfortable with the attention, he never felt that way when she touched him, she thought.

“Why do you let them do that?” Sansa asked irritably, shutting the door behind her as Jon dropped to his writing desk, his hands cradled his head as he leaned over the desk.

“Let them do what, Sansa?” Jon asked in mild exasperation, glancing at her as she walked over to stand in front of his desk. He knew exactly what she meant, she had only just come upon the sight of that maid touching him, leaning close to him as though she intended to lay a kiss upon his lips. The thought made her anger boil inside her.

“Touch you, get close enough to almost kiss you,” she accused heatedly, crossing her arms over her chest as she regarded him, waiting for his answer.

“What should I tell them? Hmm? Don’t touch me, or my sister will not like it?” he inquired in a patronizing tone, dropping his hands as he leaned back in his seat. The way he said sister meant something, she realized. He was trying to tell her how wrong it was for how she felt, to insinuate she had a say as though she was his wife, his lover and not his sister.

“As King they should not touch you with so much familiarity,” she said instead though her tone was harsh as she glared down at him.

“Why does it matter, Sansa?” he questioned then pushed back his chair to stand, leveling their heights and eyes. “Why does it matter so much to you?” The way he questioned her belied to his guilt, she could see it in his eyes. See the heaviness weighing him down.

“Why shouldn’t it? I spent time around a royal court, I know the boundaries that you should preserve when it comes to the common folk.” It was a lie to cover up her feelings, to cover up her blunder. He wasn’t blind though, he could see she wasn’t being truthful. Him and his observant eyes, they could see right through her, always. The way he gulped, the way his eyes closed briefly as though eluding to him coming to a horrible conclusion.

It took the burning of jealousy from her heart and replaced it with the bleeding of a broken heart.

“Which part of court did you spend so much time in? Robert Baratheon, or Cersei Lannister?” Jon asked with such seriousness, she could see how he didn’t want to hurt her, but he did. His insinuation was like a stab through her heart, she knew what he meant. There was no disgust on his face, only guilt.

Only guilt.

Sansa forced away her pain, grinding her teeth together as anger raced through her veins. “What are you insinuating, Jon?”

“You know what I am insinuating, Sansa. You’re not stupid, so do not act as so. This,” Jon waved a hand between them, “cannot continue on. It’s forbidden by law, it’s wrong and we both know it.” He then shook his head, turning away from her where he mumbled, “We’re not Lannister’s.”

“I need you, Jon,” Sansa said as she felt torn in half. Her heart raced, and her gut felt empty. She needed him to hold her, she needed him to help fight away the demons of her nightmares, she needed him…to love her, like she loved him.

“I’m sorry, Sansa,” he apologized sadly, sparing her a glance before turning away once more. He wouldn’t even look at her. “It’s forbidden and with reason, we cannot go any further. I’m sorry.”

Sansa turned back from him, briskly walking to the door where she flung it open and slammed it shut as tears pooled in her eyes. She refused to let them fall though, she cried more than enough to fill a lifetime ten-times over. She slammed her own door shut, making sure he heard her from his chambers. Her vision was blurry as she looked about herself. What was she to do now? The nightmares would surely get to her, he would have her again.

It seemed so asinine of her to tell him he would disappear from this world long after he was gone, she was wrong. As long as he haunted her dreams each night he would never disappear, he would always be there in the dark corners of her mind, laying in wait to catch her off guard. To have her once again. Jon was the only one who kept him at bay, the only man who she could envision ever being intimate with again, the only man she would ever want again.

Yet he did not want her, at least not enough to push aside his guilt of how wrong it was. He didn’t love her like she did him…

She tossed and turned through out the night, too fearful to sleep and too aroused to find any even if she wanted too. Sansa fought between disgust of her memories and the pleasure of her fantasies and there stashed between these two extremes was loneliness, threading them together where she traveled the thin line. Her hands traveled up and down her body, trying to relieve the ache but not having the strength to truly touch herself. She needed Jon.

She needed him now.

Sansa got up from her bed, disregarding a robe as she crossed her room to exit. She peeked her head out to see no one in the hall currently, quickly she dashed towards his door, not bothering to knock as she entered. She wasn’t surprised he left his door unlocked, if Jon didn’t wake to the intrusion then Ghost most surely would. The massive white direwolf greeted her upon entry, he growled lowly for a moment then caught whiff of her scent and immediately stopped. He came to her, nuzzling his nose against her open palm. She smiled lovingly at him.

“What are you doing?” Jon asked from his prone position in bed, watching her interact with Ghost. Sansa turned her gaze upon him, taking in his bare chest only half covered by his furs.

“I can’t sleep.” He didn’t look happy by her answer, looked ready to tell her to leave altogether before he sighed and any fight that was there evaporated into thin air.

He lifted his furs then, mumbling, “Get on with it then.”

She kept a smile closed behind flat lips to not show how pleased she was that he broke so easily. Maybe she wasn’t the only one who needed him, maybe he needed her just as much? His bed was smaller than hers by a few inches, meaning when she snuggled in she had to stay at his chest to stay on the bed completely. Attentively his arms came around her, holding her to him. Sansa buried her face into his neck, sighing deeply as relief strung through her veins. She felt safe again, and he disappeared from her mind altogether.

It was that sense of security that brought her to falling asleep almost immediately, her mind fogging over to dreamlessness as Jon’s warmth seeped into her cold skin and bones. His warmth encasing her, only her.

Only her.

Sansa woke abruptly, her back pressed to Jon’s front like that time a few weeks earlier. Two different things brought her to full awareness, the first being her enormous arousal throbbing between her legs, and the second being Jon’s equal arousal pressing tantalizingly into her bottom once more. The difference between last time and this time were that he was actually rutting against her continuously. His breathing was swallow with heavy eyes shut in sleep, yet his body moved to try and relieve his aching erection. Sansa felt her ache calling out to his, felt the urge to move against his hard cock.

So, she does.

She pushes her bottom back as he pushes forward, she pulls back just as slightly as he does then meeting in the middle again, and again, and again. She shifted and felt his cock slip between her cheeks, only realizing that her nightrail had rucked up in her sleep and her smallclothes were thin silk, allowing her to feel his solid, hard cock skimming up and down the crack between her bottom’s cheeks. The feeling sent shivers up her spine as wetness leaked from her cunt. It felt peculiar, yet she liked it more than she thought she would. Sansa moaned lightly as she rocked her hips to his rutting.

Jon’s groan sounded in her ear then his hands were on her hips, stilling her movements. “Stop,” he mumbled groggily, fighting against sleeps embrace.

“No,” she answered back, fighting against his hold on her hips to continue the strange dance she was doing. He groaned at her movements, digging his fingers into her hips. That only heighten her arousal causing her to whimper. “I’m tired of denying myself of what makes me happy,” she announced firmly, twisting her head around to be able to make out his facial expressions. His eyes were nothing but black as he peered down at her. “Aren’t you?”

Jon frowned deeply causing lines to appear around his mouth, wrinkles to be written across his forehead, and his eyebrows to drop towards his eyes. He contemplated her words as she held his gaze. No words leave his mouth though, he remained silent. Sansa waited a moment more before she started her dance again, feeling his cock slide between her cheeks again. His eyebrow ticked at the feel, but he spoke no words and even better, he didn’t hinder her movements, only held on to her as she continued.

Her cunt ached and throbbed for attention, she squeezed her thighs together as she dug a heel into the mattress to rub up against Jon. His breathing grew harsher, his eyes were clenched shut as though shutting out the image of her and what she was doing with him, to him. She needed him to move though, she needed him to participate.

“Jon, please.”

He mumbled something, but didn’t heed to her plea. Sansa tried again, begging for him to move, begging for his touch. Then she reached up with one hand, curling it in his hair as she dragged him forward so her lips were at his ear where she whispered, “I’m so wet for you, please touch me.”

His resolve snapped at that, he rutted against her bottom rapidly, reaching around her body to push up her nightrail more where he easily slipped his rough, callused hand inside her smallclothes. The touch of his harden finger tips on her folds sent shocks of pleasure zinging through her, the sensation of his fingers sliding between her folds, trailing up her wetness to find her clit throbbing and begging for relief, for his touch. Sansa cried out his name as Jon fingered her clit hard as he met her rotating hips with his.

Her leg hitched up his thigh to open her cunt to his touches. She always thought he’d be feather light and cautious, more romantic than the hard, knowing touches he gave her. It was better than she could imagine. Sansa whined as his thumb pressed on her clit, circling it tightly while a finger, his middle she thinks, slides through her folds to probe her entrance. He dipped the tip of his finger in then out, mimicking what a cock would do before his finger plunged into her without warning. Instead of fear at the intrusion she relished in the feel of his rough-skinned finger pressing against her spongy inside. Jon moaned in her neck, commenting how tight she felt.

Sansa felt overwhelmed by pleasure of his finger inside her and his cock pressing up and down insistently between her cheeks. He pulled his finger out of her much to her distress only to push two inside instead. It felt even better than the one, she felt a hint of fullness as he pushed them in to his knuckles then back out, in and out, in and out. Sansa gripped his hair harder, knowing it had to be hurting him but he said nothing except for a groan to indicate his pain and pleasure. It was becoming too much, she was nearing her peak.

Jon pressed his two fingers towards the front of her abdomen where he pressed something inside her, some hidden spot she did not know existed that caused her peak to explode so suddenly that there was nothing but a white sheen over her eyes as pleasure wrecked her body, head to toe. Jon moaned deeply within his chest, he found his own release as well. He kept fingering her though, kept pressing down her clit with harsh rubs that extended her peak, but also verged on hurting. He didn’t stop though, Sansa cried out again, her tight channel clenching around not two but suddenly three fingers as he dragged and pressed against that spot.

It was too much, she thought, she couldn’t possibly peak so soon again! She closed her free hand over his, telling him she couldn’t anymore. Jon assured her she could, she wanted to stop him, to tell him to stop but at the same time she didn’t want too either. Sansa wanted that second peak, she wanted it though it hurt as much as it pleasured her. Her thighs were completely soaked with her own juices, sweat dripping heavily down her body as he pushed her body to the limit of pleasure.

The roar of pleasure overtook her then, she felt wetness squirting out of her as he continued to finger her. Her second peak over shadowed her first by a long shot, her body wouldn’t stop shaking well after Jon had removed his fingers from her aching cunt. He whispered to her about how amazing she was, how good she felt around his fingers. Sansa whined at his words as little after shocks echoed through her body just from his voice and words alone. By the time they had gotten up his mattress was soaked heavily.

Sansa blushed and felt a tad faint when she noticed how big the wet spot where she had laid was, even more so when she noticed her juices on the hard wood by the bed. Jon noticed too, his face heating up as he glanced between the evidence of his touch to her redden face. “It’s not pee right,” Sansa asked quietly as he wiped it up with a dirty tunic.

“No,” Jon mumbled, his voice heavy and husky. She could barely stand straight but that voice made her want to peak again, to feel his fingers ravish her to utter completion. Instead she backed away then told him she would take a bath and get one set up for him as well.

The heat of his eyes on her as she left followed her well through her bath and the rest of that day…

They continued this dance well into the next few days. It was a subconscious agreement not to talk about it, the only time they talked was during the act itself. Most nights it was Sansa crossing over to his chambers, but once or twice Jon snuck into her chambers where they cuddled to sleep then in the early hours of the morning could find them writhing against each other. Dry humping, Jon called it when she wasn’t sure what the act could be called since it wasn’t sex per say.

There was another thing that was consist with each visit as well.

No kissing.

Sansa had tried one morning, leaning over him as she was as she rode up and down his clothed erection, bumping the head against her clit each time. Her hands planted on his bare chest with her nails digging into his flesh as she met each of his thrusts upward. It was always good, not as good as when he pumped three fingers inside her and made her squirt as Jon said it was called. It was pleasing in a different way, in a dominate way she never had felt before. Jon’s hands were on her hips, guiding her as much as holding on. His eyes were open and watching, taking in the way she moved above him, how her nightrail was pushed up to reveal her smallclothes and bits of her tummy, and the strap that fell down long ago, just showing a peak of her harden nipple beneath.

It was more intimate this go around, more romantic then the hard panic of wanting, needing a release. They were both languid in their movements, prolonging the pleasure singing through their nerves. Sansa raked her nails down his chest to gain a groan as her nails caught his nipples. Her eyes were drawn to his full lips framed by his beard, his hair surrounded his head on the pillow as he arched up into her, pushing the head of his cock against her clit harder than before. The thought that they hadn’t kissed kept coming to her mind as she rode him.

Suddenly she desperately wanted his lips against hers, to feel the hairs of his beard tickling her skin till it redden, to feel how plush they seemed to look as she dragged her soaked and covered folds up and down his hard cock. She dropped down quickly as she intended to press her lips to his. Jon seemed to predict her actions and turned his head, so her lips met his cheek instead. Disappointment hollowed out a place inside her heart as she pulled away, his movements stopped altogether then.

There was a moment of silence between them, a silent war.

Sansa wasn’t sure what would happen next, would he stop her altogether and let guilt decide his actions like before? Why wouldn’t he let her kiss him? That question tore at her heart more than the first as she waited for him to either proceed, or tell her to go back to her chambers. It wouldn’t be the first time something caught him off guard and he sent her away. He would come to her the next night, apology on his lips. She knew the war that went on inside his head, the one she apparently lacked.

Probably because she was already so damaged beyond repair.

“Get up,” Jon instructed, letting her hips go. Irritation made her hands clench into fists, if he sent her away again then she would deny him entry into her chambers that night, sleep be damned. As she stood up she let her nightrail fall to her knees and pulled up her loose strap to right herself. Jon watched her silently then waved a hand at her as he said, “Take off your smallclothes, Sansa.”

Confusion furrowed her brow before she followed through with the request. Her smallclothes dropped to the floor with a plop, heavy from sweat and her juices soaking them. She felt a mild streak of embarrassment at how aroused she could become with him. Jon gave her a small smile then held his hand out to her, beckoning her to him. The tension alleviated as she straddled his hips again, the feel of his clothed cock right against her folds felt even better.

Jon’s hands grasped her hips again, but instead of guiding her grinding he maneuvered her up his body, tugging insistently till she was moving up his chest then further. Sansa grabbed the backboard of the bed to steady herself as Jon set her over his face, her cunt brushing his beard as her knees dug into the pillow his head laid on. The position was strange, she thought, she felt like she was about to suffocate him. He dragged his arms up around her legs where they caged his body. Sansa was about to ask him if he was alright when his mouth opened beneath her cunt, his tongue swiping through her folds.

She clutched the wooden backboard as he tongued her folds, licking up her juices and flicking against her clit. She bit her bottom lip as he feasted upon her, sucking at her folds while he encouraged her to ride his face. His hands moved her hips up and down in small intricate thrusts, dragging her folds over his soft, wet tongue. It felt amazing and peculiar, something so completely new. Jon moaned into her cunt, his tongue pressed into her entrance causing her to fling her head back with a loud moan.

He stuck his tongue in and out repeatedly as she moved then his hands were reaching around her hips, going between her thighs to part and lift the folds of her cunt where he reached up and attached his mouth to her clit. The poor bundle of nerves never stood a chance, being sucked into his warm, wet mouth where it was battered by his tongue as he sucked. Sansa cried out, letting go of the backboard to leaned back instead. Her hand landed on his chest while her other combed through his hair as she watched him suck and drink from her.

Her eyes moved from the scene before her to his neglected cock within his breeches. Her mind was jumbled by pleasure, but she had enough of a thought process to undo his ties then slip her hand into his breeches and smallclothes to grasp his cock for the first time. She liked the way it felt in her hand, soft yet hard. She drew him from his breeches where she could watch as his foreskin moved up to cover his cock’s head then down to reveal the redden, weeping tip. Jon groaned into her folds, releasing her abused clit for a moment as she pumped his cock.

Sansa glanced back to see his eyes watching her heatedly, moans and groans spoken intimately to her folds as she gave him pleasure. She never thought she’d ever like to touch another cock again, Jon’s was different though, it was bigger for one, and so much nicer looking than the one other she had the misfortune of ever seeing and touching. Jon mouthed at her folds, slurping up her juices to drive away any discomfort she felt from her thoughts. His lips closed around her clit again as he plunged his three fingers into her and Sansa lost it. Her eyes glazed over and her hand tighten around him so hard it probably hurt him, but Jon said nothing of pain as he peaked as well.

Sansa fell backwards, landing on his body with his seed covered stomach plastered to her back and his softening cock lightly tapping her cheek. Some of his seed still on his cock touched her cheek, leaving a bit behind on her skin. She didn’t mind though.

She wanted to ask him why he wouldn’t kiss her, but she couldn’t find the words to ask. If she wanted to be honest, she was afraid of what his answer would be. She knew how tenuous these acts were between them, how easily they could break by his guilt and by how forbidden everything they have done is. Sansa wanted to feel guilty, she wanted to feel awful for partaking in this sinful act with her brother, but she couldn’t find it in her. She wanted what she wanted, and nothing was going to stand in her way.

She lived enough torture and torment to allow guilt to hinder her actions any longer…

Walking after that was a task she wasn’t prepared for. He said nothing as she parted from him, he just wiped his seed from her cheek almost lovingly then turned away from her. Sansa bathed and changed for the day, deciding against breaking her fast for she wasn’t hungry, nor was she in the mood to see one of the serving maids try and fail to flirt with Jon.

Littlefinger was laying in wait for her, approaching her when she least expected it.

“Lady Sansa,” he greeted, smirk stretching across his thin lips. Sansa didn’t bother to smile back, just nodded her head as she mumbled, “Lord Baelish.”

“I’ve been hearing whispers in the halls,” he started, matching her pace though she was honestly trying to escape him without stating as much. She only gave him an expressionless glance as he continued on, “Whispers that you’ve been visiting King Jon’s chambers at night and leaving in the morning, whispers of a woman moaning in his chambers in the morning.”

Sansa felt an icy cold grip upon her heart though her face gave nothing away. They hadn’t exactly been that careful, she wondered if Jon knew. Wondered what it would mean for them if he finds out. “Your point, Lord Baelish?” she asked blandly, stopping as she regarded him. He looked as though he didn’t care, but it was in his eyes, the way fire burned within them at the thought that she was seeking her brother out for pleasure, that she wasn’t seeking him out instead.

“My point, my dear, is that it doesn’t look well for either of you. Least you be compared to the Lannister’s or Targaryen’s, maybe it’d be best if you left Winterfell for a while,” Petyr offered smoothly, folding his arms as he watched her carefully. Sansa balked at his suggestion.

“Leave Winterfell? After I fought so hard to get it back, this is my home.” He nodded to her words but seemed unconvinced by her conviction.

“This maybe your home, but Jon is King, if he is accused of having an incestuous relationship with his sister then he’ll have to send you away, for your safety, for his.” Sansa immediately started to shake her head at him.

“No, Jon would never,” she insisted, but realized too late that she played into his trap. Littlefinger smirked, reaching up a hand to touch her cheek, the same one that not even an hour ago Jon’s seed had covered.

“You can come back to the Vale with me, Jon can’t protect you anymore. Not like I can.” She heard the double meaning in his words. He’d protect her alright, he’d marry her elude to receiving his protection. Sansa stepped back from his hand, frown on her lips.

“This is my home.” He nodded again though that blasted smirk stayed in place.

“It was only a suggestion,” he commented then left her as swiftly as he had come to her.

Sansa felt sick to her stomach as his words rotated around her mind. He was right, Jon couldn’t protect her if he was accused of incest. She would lose her home again, but that wasn’t what stole her breath, it was the thought of losing Jon that made it hard to breathe. The thought of him sending her away, even if for her safety made her want to curl up into a ball and cry. She needed to find him, speak with him before anyone else said something, before Littlefinger played devil’s advocate.

Jon wasn’t hard to find, he decided on breaking his fast in his chambers. He was eating at his desk when she knocked and entered, he chewed slowly when she came before him, but there was a tension in his shoulders. Something told her he already knew, and this was the end for her, for them…

“Jon,” Sansa said, ready to deliver her case, whatever that may be when he swallowed and cut her off.

“This ends, Sansa. No more.” His words cut through her heart like a knife, like a sword was driven through her chest by no other than Jon, himself.

“Jon, please-No Sansa!” Jon cut her off again, sending his chair falling back to the floor as he stood, his hands on the table, clenched in fists. “We cannot continue this affair, it is wrong, and I will not sacrifice your safety for it. It was wrong of us to even start…I’m sorry,” his voice was full of despair, his eyes sorrowful as he regarded her.

Sansa took a deep shuddering breath to try and calm her nerves, she knew it wouldn’t last long, she knew something would get in the way. His guilt, or the politics that ruled their lives. Maybe it was a bit of both, but she knew something would stand in their way. She still couldn’t bring up the guilt of their affair, she only felt misery and anguish at the fact that she was losing Jon now, losing the man who mattered most to her, the man she loved.

The man she could ever come to love.

A tear escaped her eye before she wiped it away, she only nodded then left as fast as her legs could get her. Just that morning she had a hard time moving her legs for a whole other reason and now it was because she could barely breathe. Sansa held it together though, held back the tears from breaking from her eyes as she moved to enter her chambers.

Littlefinger waited by her door, watched her almost sadly, like it pained him to see her in pain. The thought almost made her laugh, he couldn’t hide the smirk at the corner of his lips. He would be happy for any type of discord between her and Jon, he was probably jumping for joy on the inside. Something spiteful roared inside her as she thought of Jon and wanting to keep her safe.

“Maybe I might go back to the Vale,” she said softly for his ears. Littlefinger looked surprised, obviously not expecting her to agree with his suggestion. A more natural smile came to his lips as he touched her cheek again.

“It would be for the best, I know Sweetrobin would be happy to see you once again.” She nodded then pulled away.

“I need to be alone,” she said before leaving the hall. Her feet carried her far, leaving the walls of the castle towards the open courtyard then further into the Godswood.

Sansa came upon the heart tree, it’s red leaves contrasting with it’s white bark and the white snow littering the ground. Her father would come here when he needed to contemplate the actions he had taken, the things that laid heavily in his mind. Now it was her turn.

She sat upon the stump her father would and closed her eyes as everything came to mind. She didn’t want to leave Winterfell, she didn’t want to leave her childhood home, and she didn’t want to leave Jon either, but she did she really have a choice? Sansa could stay here and watch him be flirted with, watch as the other lords and his bannermen state how he needed to find a wife. She wouldn’t be able to bear it. Jon had said she was protected, that she would never have to marry again if she didn’t want too, that being Lady of Winterfell would always be her title, regardless.

What if I don’t want that anymore? She thought sadly, what if I’m willing to give it all up to be with you?

Winterfell hadn’t felt like home, not till she had Jon beside her, holding her, seemingly loving her. Maybe it would be for the best?

“Do you really intend to leave?” Jon’s voice suddenly sounded around her, she opened her eyes to see him standing there before her. His hair was pulled back, but slightly messy, he looked out of breath too like he had been running around. He’s not wearing his cloak, she noted. “You can’t, Sansa! You fought to take Winterfell back! You brought the Vale, you won the battle!” he said so aggressively, staring at her like he wasn’t sure what he was seeing anymore.

Apparently Littlefinger wasted no time in talking with Jon.

“It doesn’t feel like home. It didn’t the first time I came back with Ramsey Bolton within its walls and it doesn’t again now. Maybe…it was never meant to be my home again, I lost that chance when I went South,” she reflected sadly, clasping her hands together. Jon looked at her in disbelief.

“If that is true then I lost my chance as well! I left too, Sansa, that doesn’t make Winterfell any less of my home, or yours.” She didn’t know what else to say to him, this was what needed to happen regardless. He needed to stay as King, he couldn’t be contested and accused of incestuous actions if she wasn’t around. It would be better this way, she thought, it had to be…

“Is Petyr Baelish supposed to be home for you then?” Jon suddenly asked, anger edging in his tone as his hands tighten into fists.

“No, but where else can I go? The Riverlands are still under Lannister and Frey’s hold. Sweetrobin will take me back…maybe he’ll marry me,” she mumbled at the end, shrugging at the thought. There were worse things to endure, like Littlefinger and his ambitions.

Jon started to shake his head. “You do not have to go, Sansa! If anyone needs to go…it is me. I stole your home, you should be Queen in the North.” Sansa immediately shook her head, coming to stand.

“They choose you as their King, Jon. Inheritance does not come into play when you are chosen,” she stated softly, nor did she even want the title. She was tired of being manipulated by others for her supposed power.

“I didn’t choose it though,” Jon commented back, his eyes bore into her imploringly, but she didn’t know what he wanted from her anymore. If he wanted her at all.

“Then what do you choose, Jon?” Sansa questioned exasperatedly, what more could she do for him that wouldn’t tear her apart as well? What more could he possibly want?

“I choose you.”

Sansa blinked rapidly. “What?”

Jon stepped up to her, his hands raising up to cup her cheeks within his as he gazed into her eyes. “I. Choose. You,” he said, each word punctuated. His eyes then dropped to her lips, something he had only ever done once so very long ago after pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead.

Sansa glanced at his as well then brought her hands up to touch his chest. Slowly he leaned towards her, giving her more than enough time to push away, to walk away from the complicated relationship they had, but she didn’t. The thought of stopping him never crossed her mind. His lips were soft, gentle as they kissed her. His hands kept her in place as he kissed her, slanting his mouth to hers as they pressed and pushed against each other’s lips. Sansa loved it, it was so much better than any kiss she ever had.

Things escalated from there fast, his hands dropping to her hips as he walked her backwards till her back touched and pressed into the bark of the heart tree. His tongue entering her mouth to tangle with hers while he tugged at her skirts, lifting them up her body. Sansa ran her fingers down his chest, stopping at his breeches to untie them as fast as she could. She gave them a hard tug, taking his smallclothes down with his pants as he merely pulled hers aside while hooking her leg around his hip.

She was already soaked as he pressed the head of his cock into her entrance, feeling so much bigger than his three fingers ever could be. She felt immensely full, every nook and cranny filled with Jon’s cock. She couldn’t make anymore room for him if she tried, his hips pressed flush against hers as she took him full inside her. She never thought it would feel as good as it does, never thought she would ever want another cock inside her cunt, violating her, but Jon wasn’t, and it was more than she could ever hope for.

He started off slow with his thrusts, his lips never leaving hers as he did. He kissed her as though to make up for all the kisses they missed out on, letting her know how much he truly wanted her, wanted this between them. Forbidden be damned! Sansa clung to him as he thrusted harder into her, bringing her closer and closer to her peak. The wind blew around them as soft snowflakes started to fall around them, landing in their hair, and on their clothes and skin. His hips were pistoning, slapping against her harder and harder.

It seemed even more forbidden to have sex against the heart tree in the Godswood, she thought as the cold bark bled into her clothes to the skin of her back. Jon’s hands held her hip and thigh tightly, the friction between them elevating higher and higher. Sansa ripped her mouth from his as she held on for dear life, Jon whispered loving words into her skin, whispered vulgar, needy words into her ear as he plunged into her repeatedly. She cried louder and louder, no cares if anyone heard them, no cares if they were found.

Nothing could ruin this moment for them, for her.

Jon let go of her hip to harshly thumb at her clit then gave a pinch that sent her off the edge into her peak. He groaned into her neck, thrusting into her a few more times before stilling completely. She could feel her channel flooded with his seed, it warmed her heart as he leaned her into the heart tree. His breathes coming in pants as they tried to gather their wits from such an intense affair.

As snowflakes melted on their overheated skin Sansa thought to herself, maybe home isn’t always a place, maybe…her eyes drew to meet Jon’s where she grabbed his head to bring his lips back to hers for a tender kiss.

Maybe it’s sometimes a person, the one that matters most, the who can keep you together.

The one who you love the most…     

 

 

 


	7. Pregnancy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sum: Sansa goes to King’s Landing and marries Joffrey, she’s able to pass off her pregnancy as his though really, it’s Jon’s. Shit hits the fan and a new rebellion begins. (Canon Divergence) (Sansa POV)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the delay! This took me a while since it was so long, but also I am going through finals this week and next, so that put a damper on my writing. Better late than never, I say!
> 
> There is a lot of exposition in the beginning so be prepared! I hope y'all enjoy!! ^_~

 

 

 

King’s Landing was everything she thought it would be, it was dry, it was hot, and it was full of colorful people. Upon entering the city, she was treated like a queen, common folk flocking to watch as she rode beside her father, smiling at everyone and everything she could see. There was still an awful ache inside her heart, one that probably will never heal because she was missing a part of her heart.

The part she left with Jon back at the Wall…

The trek from the Wall to Winterfell was the worse of it, she kept her cloak up over her head to keep everyone from seeing her teary eyes. Jon hugged them all goodbye, he lingered the most with her though, even pressed a sweet kiss to her forehead before helping her up on her horse. Arya watched her during the trip home, Sansa didn’t say a word of what happened between her and Jon. It was their little secret, she thought while tenderly stroking her flat stomach.

They were home for a week before she rode with her father to White Harbor to travel by sea to King’s Landing. After much discussion Sansa had to reluctantly leave Lady behind, though she was the most gentle and tame of the direwolves her father felt it would be best to leave her back at Winterfell. “You can always see her when you visit,” he assured as she snuggled her face into Lady’s neck. Riding a ship on choppy seas worked to her advantage as she started becoming sick and it wasn’t from seasickness either.

Jeyne had the sickness for two moons, every morning and every noon she was barfing into a chamber pot. Sansa hoped that wouldn’t be the case for her if she was going to pass the babe off as Joffrey’s. It was a terrible predicament she put herself in, but she wouldn’t regret it. Sansa couldn’t have Jon for so many reasons, at the very least she could have his child and know she had a small part of him no matter what. Hopefully the child would look more like her, but if he or she did resemble Jon she could pass it off as taking the Stark side of looks.

Her sickness subsided some, at the times she felt nauseous she was able to be alone and purge without her father, Jory, or any of the men with them knowing a thing.

Everything was happening so fast, Sansa felt completely swiped up in the excitement of a wedding, her wedding. She met the royal family again after so many years. King Robert was still fat and a drunk, Cersei Lannister seemed nice as she had been the first time, but Sansa picked up that the woman wasn’t all she appeared. Joffrey was still as good looking, even better as he aged, but it was like she was woken from her daydreams of princes and princesses because she could see that he wasn’t who he appeared as well. There was a sharpness in his eyes, there was nothing gentle within them. Myrcella and Tommen were both genuine in their sweetness, untainted by the darker world around them.

The days that followed gave her a better insight into the routines everyone had and a better grasp of who exactly the royal family were. Her wedding was fast approaching, and Cersei liked to take absolute control, she decided the where’s and how’s of it. Sansa was more than happy to step back and let her have her way. The more that the days went by the more she realized how much she truly didn’t want to marry Joffrey. She missed Jon terribly, she missed his dark hair and eyes, she missed his social blunders, she missed everything she had relearned about him in her time at the wall. But what Sansa noticed most of all was that she missed the North, Winterfell and her family.

She rarely got to see her father since they arrived, both being consumed by different things. His job as hand, her wedding, it was so time consuming, before she knew it two weeks had already gone by and her wedding day was upon them.

The morning went by in a flash, her nerves made her stomach more upset as she thought about who she would be marrying. She had to quickly dry her tears before anyone seen them, plastered a false smile on her face and changed for her wedding day. It felt wrong as she went to the Sept of Baelor, it felt wrong as she walked down the aisle with her father by her side as Joffrey Baratheon stood at the end, smirk on his face as he watched her intently, and it felt wrong as they said their vows and were pronounced husband and wife.

The kiss made her nauseous as memories of a different pair of lips kissed hers for the first time. The way Joffrey held her hand so tightly bothered her as well, it felt more like a shackle, a chain that would forever keep her tied to him, always. Years of training to be the perfect lady helped her to keep the tears at bay as they went through the feast, it helped her keep her false smile on as everyone watched them, it helped her as she politely covered her cup to keep anymore wine from filling her cup. A little was fine, she remembered Maester Luwin telling Jeyne, a small cup at most, but anymore and it wouldn’t be good for the babe. Instead she directed the serving maids to consistently fill Joffrey’s during the evening into night.

Sansa wasn’t able to escape the bedding ceremony, her father turned away as men tore at her dress, revealing her shift and corset underneath. She didn’t like the hands touching her, the older men were the worse, pawing at her breasts and bottom. She couldn’t escape them fast enough, slamming the door shut as they hooted and hollered behind the thick, wooden door. She would have a few minutes of time to prepare herself for what was to come. The mere thought of Joffrey sticking his cock inside her caused her nausea to act up, she quickly found a pot to barf in, barely making it. Sansa rubbed her belly, hoping to settle her stomach before he got there.

The few minutes she was allotted to think helped her get into the mindset of what she had to do, what duty demanded of her. She hoped it’d be easier now that she was sure he was drunk, utterly and completely. The door opening to shouts of women alerted her to Joffrey’s entrance.

He looked better for wear than she had faired, his smirk and narrowed eyes caught sight of her on the bed where he proceeded to take the rest of his clothes off. All in all, the bedding wasn’t as horrible as it could have been, Sansa reflected as she laid there, Joffrey passed out on his side next to her. At first, he couldn’t get his cock to harden, he cursed angrily, glared at her like it was her problem. His kisses were hard to endure but she managed, thinking of Jon throughout the whole ordeal from his kisses to his touches to the point where his cock became erect and he plunged into her without warning. It didn’t hurt, it was more uncomfortable than anything else.

His cock was nothing impressive when compared to Jon’s either, he didn’t fill her like Jon had and that made the illusion that it was Jon with her that much harder. Joffrey’s rutting left much to be desired, it was clear he was only in it for his pleasure, to that she didn’t care much about. Let him have his pleasure, she could cherish her memories of Jon and her time together even more when Joffrey couldn’t compare to him. Mid-way through the act, he slowed down as though he wanted to make love instead of fucking her, instead he slowed down till he wasn’t moving at all.

It took Sansa a moment to realize as his weight settled heavily upon her that he had fallen asleep. It took every ounce of her strength to shove him off her, the relief of his softening cock leaving her allowed her to breath easier. She felt between her legs, but there was no seed spilling from her entrance. He hadn’t even peaked before passing out. The irony made her smile, made giggle inside.

She waited a while to be sure he was truly out before cutting the back of her shin where she smeared the blood on the sheets and some on Joffrey’s penis to make it seem as though he had taken her maidenhead. She wore stockings all the time, so it would hide the cut till it healed. She relished the rest of the night though her heart still ached. This would be her life now, this would be what she had to look forward to till she died. Tears welled up in her eyes as she thought of Jon, remembering the sorrow in his eyes as she left. Wishing she could be with him.

Wishing…

As the days went by things in King’s Landing elevated drastically, one terrible deed after the other. King Robert was dead, killed while on a hunt. Sansa had no love for the man, having barely known him aside from the stories her father told of times since gone. There was more lurking in the shadows though, her father neglected to tell her of his suspicions in regards to the Lannister’s, neglected to tell her the danger she was entering into. Maybe he thought she would be safe once she was married to Joffrey, made he was too afraid that his investigation was false and did not want to scare her, and maybe he didn’t think of her at all. She would never know for sure.

Not after Joffrey ascended the throne then pronounced her father a traitor. Worse of all was when he took them out to the Sept of Baelor then proceeded to take her father’s life before her very eyes. She fainted after the giant sword swung through his neck, decapitating him instantly. The days were dimmer and darker from there, her only solace was that as his wife he couldn’t hurt her publicly like he wanted too, like he threatened to behind closed doors. It was a full moon’s turn from her wedding, only a week after her father lost his life and the late King Robert’s brothers braced themselves to fight for the crown as rumors came about the parentage of King Robert’s children.

Robb declared independence for the North and announced as King in the North. So many things were happening so quickly, Sansa felt like her head was spinning. She wanted to go home so badly, she felt even more like a prisoner than before. Joffrey also made things difficult, he bedded her three more times much to her displeasure and discomfort. She kept her wits about her though, waited for just the right time before mentioning feeling sick to Maester Pycelle. He gave her an even worse examination that left her violated and disgusted, but once the deed was done he proclaimed she was pregnant.

Cersei pulled her aside to talk, she was already weary of the royal family, mostly Joffrey, but his mother was no better. She talked to Sansa about the joys of having kids then let her know that she may never come to love Joffrey, but she will love his children, her children. Sansa knew she would love this little one inside her, guaranteed it since Jon was the father. Her pregnancy relieved her from anymore beddings by Joffrey, Cersei stated it wasn’t good for the babe and mother much to her surprise.

Vaguely, she wondered if the older woman was as bad as she portrayed herself as.

Sansa had little to no allies at the moment, so even a false one as Cersei was better than none. Yet she did have one man in her corner though she was just as weary of him as she was of everyone else there. Petyr Baelish came to her as a friend, stating how he grew up with her mother and how he tried to help her father before things got out of hand. Sansa wanted to believe his every word, wanted to feel like she had at least someone she could trust, but she noticed the gleam in his eyes and the sharpness in his smirk, and she knew he was only out for himself.

Then there was the Hound, he took it upon himself to protect her as much as possible. She wasn’t sure what to make of the scarred man, but he seemed more trustworthy than any of people around her. At least with him she knew what he was capable of and what he wanted in life. Or so she assumed, she could be wrong. Sansa figured it was best to take everything and everyone with a grain of salt.

During the worse of it she played the perfect lady, forsaking her family and the North in favor of her King husband and his family though speaking the words left a terrible taste in her mouth and a bitter, sour note in her stomach. Three moons went by, Renly Baratheon fell, killed by his brother, Stannis, and Robb had captured Joffrey’s uncle, his true father she learned through whispers and rumors. Joffrey held back his displeasure while in court, but threatened her when they were alone. Her belly protruded out in a soft bump, accenting her slim figure that portrayed her pregnancy.

She feared that Joffrey would forget himself and hurt her, one of his threats relaying how he would punch her in the stomach and force her to miscarry. Sansa made sure to never be alone when he was around, angry or otherwise, she couldn’t trust he wouldn’t hurt her.

Sansa rubbed her belly lovingly, her thoughts circling around Jon and what he was doing. Did he know what was happening in King’s Landing? Did he know she was pregnant? He was Lord Commander, he had to know already, must believe the babe growing inside her was Joffrey’s. She wished she could see him again, so much so. She missed her family, she missed her father, her mother, and her siblings, she missed Lady and the other direwolves, and most of all, she missed Jon Snow…

Maybe not all her prayers have gone unanswered though…

She was shocked when she saw him, kneeled before Joffrey on the Iron Throne, head bowed to him. Sansa felt her throat turn dry as a lump formed, her eyes glistened as she took him in, as she absorbed the sight that was the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, Jon Snow. He didn’t spare her a glance as Joffrey regarded him in glee.

“Why have you come to my court, Lord Commander Snow? To see your sister perhaps?” Joffrey taunted, glancing over to Sansa. She kept her back straight, eyes forward with no expression on her face. Jon finally looked at her from his kneeled position, his dark grey eyes took her in, from top to bottom. There was no way he could miss her belly, but he didn’t react before he turned his sights back on the King.

“No, the only family I have are the brothers of the Night’s Watch, I have come from the Wall to ask for recruits.” His words cut her deeply as he spoke them. Inside she knew he had to say that, he had to stay out of any and all wars that had nothing to do with the guarding of the Wall. Sansa knew but that didn’t make it hurt any less to hear. Joffrey seemed rather disappointed, glancing between the two of them before leaning back against his throne, clearly bored now.

“Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, why would you travel so far when any other commander has sent recruiters?” Lord Tywin questioned, eyeing him suspiciously. Sansa’s heart was pounding inside her chest, she feared for his safety now. Joffrey’s grandfather brought up a good point, it looked odd for the Lord Commander to come down South for recruitments. Sansa tried not to hold out hope, she tried not to think of the only other reason why he, personally, would come here, into enemy territory.

“Times are dire, my Lord. I am short men, I am short any men capable of coming this far South with the wars going on,” Jon said smoothly, he looked at ease, unafraid of the consequences. He was brave to be here while Robb waged war against the Capital, he must be afraid, she thought, because that was the only time one could truly be brave.

“How do we know that what you speak of is truth? How do we know you weren’t sent here by your brother, Robb Stark?” Lord Tywin questioned further. Sansa could feel sweat forming on the back of her neck, hidden by her loosen hair. Her nerves felt frayed as worry for Jon’s well-being put her on the edge.

“He speaks the truth, father,” Tyrion Lannister spoke up, moving forward to be better seen by all. His mismatched eyes regarded Jon then turned back to Lord Tywin who looked none to happy by his interruption. “I have spent a long time at the Wall, I can say, without a doubt, that they are in constant need of recruitments. If the Lord Commander, himself, had to make the trip then things truly are dire.” Joffrey scoffed, mumbling about how guarding a simple wall couldn’t possibly need so many men to man.

“Who do they protect the Wall from? The Others,” Joffrey commented mockingly, snaring down at Jon who kept his facial features bland.

“The wildlings, your grace,” he replied back. “As Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch I cannot partake in the wars of the realm, my post forbids it, nor do they interest me.” Joffrey rolled his eyes while his grandfather still looked unconvinced.

“How many men do you suppose you will need?” Lord Tywin asked though he still eyed her half-brother as if he were about to pull out his sword and kill them all. Sansa gleefully wished, at the very least Joffrey if no one else.

“As many as you can afford to give me, they need no special skill for we train them where we need them. Any men will do.”

“Very well, we’ll give you your recruitments, but you will leave this very night,” Lord Tywin declared, waving his hand to dismiss him.

Tyrion spoke up once more though. “It is such a long travel from the Wall to King’s Landing, can he not stay one night? One of the Inn’s perhaps?” Sansa kept her face expressionless, but she was confused by Tyrion’s insistence on speaking on the part of Jon. She knew Jon came to like the Imp back when he first joined the Night’s Watch, years ago, but it seemed rather peculiar for him to stick his neck out so much.

Something wasn’t adding up…

“I don’t care, this talk has bored me, I am done with court!” Joffrey announced in a whiny tone that grated on her nerves. He proceeded to step down from the Iron Throne, stopping briefly in front of her with a knowing look, a look that stated he knew she was happy to see Jon. “Take a good look at your brother, Sansa, it’ll be the last time you ever see him again.” She nodded as he turned to leave.

Jon rose to his full height, immediately being escorted out of the throne room as quickly as possible. She caught his eye just as he turned away, there was something in the way he looked at her, the sad tilt of his lips as he turned away from her. Sansa bit the inside of her cheek to keep the tears at bay, she wouldn’t cry, she wouldn’t let any of these vipers get the satisfaction in her tears. She followed the high lords and ladies out, she hoped she burned a good enough image of Jon within her mind.

Joffrey was right, it would be the very last time she ever saw him again…

It was getting late though she wasn’t tired. Her mind kept repeating the events of that afternoon, of seeing Jon again after almost six moons. Her hand rubbed her growing belly, pressing down to see if the little one would move. She had felt the babe shift and move a few days earlier, the feeling startled her and caused her to drop a tea cup in shock. Having no one else to go to, she went to Cersei who explained that around this time she would start to feel some movement from the babe, Sansa didn’t miss the way she mentioned it was a little early for her to be feeling that though.

Sansa worried Cersei was figuring out the truth, but then wasn’t that irony? That the both of them committed an atrocious sin as sleeping with one’s kin, though Sansa figured it was much worse to sleep with a twin brother than a half-brother. She merely shrugged at the comment, said her mother felt movement early on with Bran and Rickon. She knew the older woman was still suspicious of her, but she said nothing more than watch her as she left.

A smile fluttered to her lips as she felt the funny, wiggle shift of the baby in her belly. If only she had a chance to talk with Jon, to see how he was doing. Sansa didn’t have the heart to tell him the babe was his when she would never see him again, it was better if he thought it was Joffrey’s, better if no one knew the truth other than herself. She wondered if she would be able to love any other children that would surely come after this one, would she be able to look at them and care even if they had Joffrey as a father?

She feared the answer leaned more towards ‘no’ than ‘yes’. She wasn’t sure she was that good of a person to be able to love any child she was forced to produce with Joffrey. If the rumors were true then Cersei never had to deal with having Robert Baratheon’s trueborn children, she got to choose who their father was, able to hide her deception well (till now that is). Sansa didn’t get that choice except for this first little one, the others would not be Jon’s and so they might be harder to find any trace of love for them. She would like to think that she could love these fictional children, that maybe the bond that grows between mother and child would help her overcome their conception, but till that situation came to be she would be left with unanswered questions.

A knock at her door brought her back to reality. Odd, she thought, no one ever dared visit her this late into evening. Another knock came to her door, so she called for them to enter, she wasn’t sure of whom she should expect to come through that door, but she knew she hadn’t expected him, at all.

Jon slipped in quickly, shutting the door then locking it as he leaned back against it. Sansa couldn’t believe what she was seeing, her eyes widen so much they hurt as she took him in, as she soaked up the image of him in her chambers with her. Jon’s breathing slowly evened out as he took her in as well. This time around his eyes gazed at every bit of her, from her eyes and face to her arms and legs. He seemed to skirt right over her belly, to that she didn’t blame him, sometimes she found it hard to look in the mirror and see her in such a state.

“Jon,” Sansa finally uttered, her voice cracked as she spoke his name.

The utterance of his name seemed to jolt him back to awareness and before she could say his name again he was upon her, arms wrapping tightly around her body to cradle her to him. Tears of joy and sorrow leaked from her eyes, not able to hold them in anymore, not now. Jon whispered her name so achingly sweet that it tore at her heart, she felt wetness on her brow then he was pulling away, so she could see his tearful eyes matching hers. He brushed back her hair from her face, his hands shaking as he pushed back the strands then he was cupping her cheeks.

Sansa mumbled his name again as his lips met hers in the sweetest kiss she thought she would never enjoy again. She pressed closer to him, kissing his lips, trying to imprint the feel of them upon her own so she may never forget, so she could always think of them as she is forced to endure Joffrey’s sloppy, hard kisses instead. Her tears kept flowing, her fingers grabbed at his neck to keep him in place. Sansa needed him to stay put, needed him to never let up for air. She could handle dying like this, with their lips connected and their arms wrapped around each other.

It would be well worth it, it would be a beautiful death.

Jon’s tongue traced her lips then plunged into her mouth to soothingly caress her tongue as they kissed. She dreamed of them kissing again, just like this, but in her dreams, they were nowhere near as good as reality. Before she knew it, he was pressing her against the wall by her bed, his hands moving up and down her body in remembrance. He paused though when his hands came to her waist, to the protruding belly poking into his flat stomach. Jon pulled away from the kiss almost reluctantly, stepping back to take in what he had ignored earlier.

His hands slowly rubbed her belly as sadness came into his eyes, he swallowed hard then clenched his eyes shut tight. Sansa bit her lip, knowing that seeing her like this and assuming it was because of Joffrey was killing him, a reminder that he could never have this with her, with any woman. She shouldn’t, she told herself, she needed to keep this secret because he would be leaving soon, she would be in too much danger if anyone else figured her secret out. Yet another part of her urged her to tell him, to let him know that it was his babe growing strongly inside her, that it was his son or daughter forming in her belly.

“I should never have let you leave me,” Jon vowed sadly, his thumbs caressing her stomach as he took in her new shape. Her mind shouted at her not too, but her heart told her it was the right thing to do, the honorable thing to do and Starks were nothing if not honorable to a fault.

“It’s yours, Jon,” Sansa whispered softly, so lowly she thought he hadn’t heard at first but then his thumbs stopped moving and he froze.

“What?” he asked in confusion and shock, his eyes finally looking up to meet hers. Determinedly she gazed straight into his eyes as she repeated, “The babe is yours, Jon.”

“But-But how? You took the moon tea!” Jon stepped back, his hands dropping from her to clasp at his forehead. She shook her head at him.

“I didn’t take the tea…I…I couldn’t…if I was gonna lose you forever then I wanted to keep a part of you with me, always,” Sansa revealed as she curled her arms around her belly. Jon looked torn between mortification and betrayal by her decision, but she couldn’t find it in her to care if he disapproved. Was it wrong of her? Yes, of course, but it was her decision, just like going to him was, just like allowing herself to love him was.

“You-You should not have done that, Sansa, you could be killed for treason, for falsely marrying a prince turned King while caring a bastard in your belly!” Sansa flinched at the word ‘bastard’, realizing now how hurtful that statement truly was. She caressed her belly soothingly as she gazed back into his eyes.

“I don’t care, I love you, Jon. I did what I felt was right, and my baby is no bastard.” Jon looked pained, but more so he started to look…relieved? That’s when she remembered the situation they were in. “What are you doing here? You could be killed, Jon!”

“I needed to see you, to be sure you were okay,” Jon stated as he stepped back to her to touch her wet cheek, wiping her tears into her skin. “But most of all, I’m here to bring you home.” Sansa felt faint as she heard his words.

“Truly?” she asked as more tears came to her eyes, the thought of home, of Winterfell made her heart ache from longing.

“Truly,” he echoed, kissing her lips softly. She pulled away first, suddenly shaking her head as all the implications of what he was doing came upon her, was he mad?

“Jon, you are Lord Commander! You cannot partake in any wars, you said so yourself! I won’t let you get yourself killed for me,” Sansa said fearfully, cupping his bearded cheeks. Jon merely smiled at her then shrugged.

“Some things are worth dying for, love.” She immediately shook her head.

“Father is dead, I cannot handle seeing the same of you.” Jon took hold of her hands, kissing each palm sweetly, reassuringly.

“You won’t, I did not pull this plan out of my ass, Sansa, I had help. Lord Tyrion is going to help us escape the castle, we will have to travel by horse for a quite a few miles, but then we’ll meet up with your Uncle Edmure in the morn’ who will help us cross to Robb’s army. From there you will go to Winterfell.” He seemed to have it all thought out, and it seemed simple enough, but her pregnancy made things uneasy, made things complicated.

“I can’t take hard travel in this condition, Jon,” Sansa commented as she waved a hand to her belly, least he forget.

“I know, we’ll take it slow, by the time they realize you are gone we will be miles away, even at a slow pace,” Jon assured as he pulled away from her to take in her chambers. “Pack light, a cloak for warmth, smallclothes and a dress or two, something you can handle to carry on your back. We need to move fast if we want the cover of night.”

Sansa felt her heart rapidly pound as she grabbed two of her most comfortable and warm dresses, a few smallclothes and her cloak that smelled like home. Jon helped her place the items into a knapsack as she placed her cloak around her shoulders, pulling the hood up over her head, he shouldered the knapsack for now as he peered outside her door. She wondered how he intended to get them out of here when she heard a tapping noise out in the hall. Jon waited and listened, it happened again and that seemed to be their cue to go. He grasped her hand tightly, twisting his fingers around till they were threaded through each other’s as they treaded as lightly as possibly down the hall.

As they rounded the corner Tyrion appeared, arms crossed over his chest as he arched an eyebrow at them. “Took you long enough, Snow,” he complained though he smirked at the end as he took in their tightly intertwined hands. “Is no sibling relationship simply platonic anymore?” Jon gave him an unamused expression before they started down the hall. Sansa felt her face flame up in embarrassment, but a squeeze from his hand reassured her. It didn’t matter what anyone thought, only they mattered.

Sansa followed just half a step behind Jon, hand on her belly as they moved. Suddenly Varys appeared out of nowhere, hands folded together in his sleeves as he smiled softly at them. “This way,” he merely uttered, turning around and seemingly disappearing behind a curtain.

Through the curtain was a secret passage, a torch in Varys hand as he led the way down the stairs within. Sansa was amazed as they made their way through the hidden passage, she wondered if anyone else knew about this passage, most likely not, she thought. She couldn’t remember every step, and turn they took, it was mostly pitch black aside from Varys’ torch as he briskly led them. Before she knew it the blackness of the passages they went through turned into the darkness of late evening, the sun already set as night took over.

The fresh air felt wonderful as it drove away the staleness of the hidden passages. Sansa squeezed Jon’s hand as they moved, he glanced back at her with a light smile. She tried not to hope too much as they traveled, each step of the way she was sure they would be caught. Each shadow created by the moon shining upon them sent a shudder down her spine, each pause they took stole her breath away as she clung to Jon’s shoulder. Traveling through the city was easier than she first thought, it was easy to bypass any of the knights that lurked around each corner to keep King’s Landing safe. Varys welled smoothly yet briskly in his slippers, leading them through different alleys to the point that Sansa couldn’t tell where they were in the city.

Tyrion brought up the rear, keeping an eye on their backs, and in the case they were stopped he could talk their way out of anything. Her cloak helped to conceal her hair, to keep her identity hidden from those who would turn them in. It was a huge relief when they left the crowded, stone buildings surrounds the Red Keep to the grassy outskirts of the city. It was scary how easily they got passed the guards at the wall encompassing the city, scary how easily someone who would do harm to the city could find a way in. They made it to a single horse tied to a tree on the outskirts of King’s Landing, that is when they stopped altogether.

“This is where we leave you both,” Varys announced with a bow of his head.

“Keep her safe, Snow,” Tyrion said softly, nodding his head to Sansa and Jon as he and Varys turned to leave them. Sansa had never given the two much thought, she avoided most everyone as best she could without being obvious. Though Varys was a mystery to her, Tyrion had always extended a hand of friendship towards her. He was one of the people who seemed to watch out for her without much care for himself.

“Thank you!” Sansa called out to them. Varys nodded his head once more as Tyrion waved her off before they disappeared from their sight.

“We must go swiftly, let me know if you are uncomfortable, or need to rest,” Jon instructed as he helped her up on the horse before hoisting himself up behind her. She felt the sense of security come over her for the first time since she arrived at King’s Landing as his arms came around her body to grab the reins.

Once they started off at a trot, one of his hands let go of the rein to wrap securely around her belly to keep her tightly held to him. The travel was hard, they stopped many times, but they also stayed as far from the road as they could. Sansa grew tired, but she held it together, wanting nothing more than to reach their first destination without fail. It was hitting twilight when Jon approached an abandoned windmill, the stone crumbling from wear and tear. It was far off the beaten path, only those who ventured so far would come across it.

Jon dropped down first then led the horse inside where he tired him up, so he would not escape. Sansa placed her hands on his shoulders as he lifted her so easily off the saddle down to her feet, she could feel the strength of his muscles in his shoulders. She looked around to see nothing but hay that would be of any use to them as a bed. A yawn overtook her as she hastily covered it with her hand. Jon smiled, reaching up to push back some loose hair that came out of her braid from her face.

“You should get some rest, I’ll keep watch,” he assured as he laid out his cloak for her to lay on, on top of the hay while using her other cloak as a blanket of sorts. Her knapsack was used as a pillow as she got comfortable, her back ached from the riding but she willfully ignored her aches and pains for the mere fact that she was outside of King’s Landing, that she was with Jon.

She would endure all seven hells to get where she was now.

“I missed you,” Sansa commented, watching as Jon sat down on a crate by the only entrance into the mill. He glanced over at her, the moonlight shined in through the opening to illuminate him to her sights. His eyes were dark along with his hair as his skin seemed to have a silvery quality to them, he looked celestial; like a God.

“I missed you too, love,” Jon murmured back lowly. Her heart skipped a beat at the term of endearment.

“I dreamt of you, of escaping back to you at the Wall,” Sansa whispered in the quiet of the mill. Her hand dropped to touch her belly, she pressed lightly to see if she could feel a squirm or wiggle. It seemed the little one was sleeping, something she should be doing as well, but she couldn’t stop the words from escaping her. “I know it was wrong of me to disobey your wishes, I should have taken the moon tea, but I…I couldn’t…”

Jon stared out into the night, looking for unknown adversaries as he seemed to contemplate her words. After a few minutes of silence, he spoke, his voice low as he turned to gaze on her. “I don’t blame you for what you did. Am I happy with it? No, I think it was a stupid and deadly risk to take. But,” he swallowed hard, glancing down to his feet. “I can’t say that it does not make me happy to know the babe is not Joffrey Baratheon’s, to know that you love me enough to keep my babe inside you…I never thought I would have a child, I didn’t dare wish or dream…”

Sansa smiled as sleep tugged at her eyes, trying to pull her from the waking world. Just as she closed her eyes, she mumbled, “Some things are worth the risk…” …

Meeting her Uncle Edmure after so long was a happy occasion. He commented on how big she had gotten, both in age and belly. The travel from the Riverlands was much easier than the trip to her uncle, they could go at a slower pace with the large entourage that accompanied her uncle. Jon kept her with him throughout, holding her hand and touching her lower back. Sansa find it odd how no one seemed to notice the intimacy between them, that her Uncle Edmure merely smiled at them. There was no time to ask Jon about it, no time to take anything else in as pursuers from King’s Landing were not too far behind.

Sansa stayed with her uncle as Jon led a fight against them, they lost three of the ten men with them, none of the pursuers survived the battle. She helped the mending of the men they had left, especially Jon who suffered a deep cut across the bridge of his nose. He flinched at her tending, but she ignored it. “Next time be more careful, Jon. My baby needs to know it’s father.”

Jon gazed into her eyes with a bit of surprise then nodded slowly, as though realizing he needed to not be so reckless anymore, realizing that he was going to be a father. Sansa wanted to kiss his lips so badly, but she held herself back, the men and her uncle knew who Jon was to her, her half-brother. That didn’t stop the ache of wanting to be close to him, that didn’t stop the ache between her legs begging for him to appease it. There were many nights back at King’s Landing where Sansa had rubbed her bump to relieve any stress from her being, to relieve the aching need of Jon.

With him here before her, it made the ache that much more unbearable and adamant for attention. Sansa felt so desperate, she was almost willing to jump him, but she held it together. She just needed to get him alone, she rubbed her thighs together, and soon…

There were more pursuers making the journey longer than was intended, it forced them to take paths further from the King’s road. It meant more treading through woods, swamps and foliage. Fortunately, her uncle had an inking that this might happen and had tents for them as coverage as rainstorms followed their every step. The babe kicked at her ribs painfully as Jon walked his horse through the swamp with her on top. Her babe did not care for the traveling and made it known by moving almost constantly like it could not find a comfortable spot. Sansa rubbed her belly soothingly, she felt much the same. Her back ached, her feet ached, she just ached in the worse possible way and in more ways than just one.

She decided enough was enough, that night she was going to get what she wanted. She needed too…

Jon pitched her tent up as rain started to lightly pelt them, his cloak was placed over her head to keep her dry as he worked. Her uncle had gone with two other men to hunt while the other five prepared the area with their tents. Her tent was set in the middle while the others circled it protectively, if they were attacked then the men would know first. Jon kept a small tent, barely big enough to fit him near hers, her second line of defense. She wanted nothing more than for him to come into her tent during the night, to hold her while they slept, but Jon never offered, and Sansa was too afraid someone might hear if she did. If she was truly honest, too afraid he might reject her.

He was finishing up the inside of her tent, setting up a cot for her. Sansa bit her lip, glanced around to see the other men were getting their tents put together, busy talking amongst themselves. With a push of courage and need she closed the flap of her tent, shrouding them in darkness. She could barely make out Jon as he stood up quickly, turning around to where the opening to the tent was.

“Sansa?” Jon questioned, she could see the outline of him, his hand reaching towards the pommel of his sword.

“I have need of you, Jon,” Sansa stated softly, pulling her skirts up so she could quickly discard her smallclothes. She heard him cough, probably able to make out her movements as well.

“Sansa…we shouldn’t…” his voice sounded strained, it sounded like he wanted too, but something was holding him back.

“I need you,” she repeated, stepping out of her smallclothes and flinging them on her cot as she slowly approached him. Her hands touched his chest, lightly fingering his leather doublet as she looked into his eyes. There was just a sliver of light coming through the opening, the wind pushing against it, so she could just make out the way his pupils dominated his eyes as he gazed down at her.

“I don’t want to hurt the babe,” he mumbled, still continuing to fight her though he said it weakly, the fight in him starting to go out. Sansa could feel wetness slowly dripping from her cunt to her thighs, she was aching so badly. What was it that the Hound had commented when she got snippy with him one day? Ah right, he said pregnant bitches tended to get horny and mean. Biting her lip, she whispered, “I’m horny, Jon.”

Jon groaned. “I won’t penetrate you,” he finally agreed, hands wrapping around her body to pull her into his chest. She went to protest, but he silenced her with his lips. Her stomach fluttered as they kissed, devouring each other as though they were both famished.

Sansa was famished, very much so. She sucked at his tongue when it entered her mouth, capturing his moan as she ran her nails through his damp, pulled back hair, scratching at his scalp. His hands moved up and down her back then further down to cup her bottom where he kneaded her flesh. She could feel her juices dripping further down her thighs, her arousal was through the roof, she had never felt like this before. Jon gathered her skirts, forcing one of her hands to take ahold of it before he dropped to his knees. Her skirts were pulled up enough to reveal her bugling pregnant belly, he pulled off his gloves quickly then lightly caressed her belly, lovingly. His lips pressed into her soft flesh, a low moan escaping her lips.

Fearful that they’ll be caught, she brought her hand with her skirts up to cover her mouth with the fabric. Jon’s lips moved all over her belly, pressing wet kisses as he mumbled words of love for her, for the unborn child inside her that they created. Seeing him like this touched her heart as it brought tears to her eyes. It still seemed so surreal that she was out here with him, that he risked life and limp to get her to safety. Her tears leaked out of her eyes just as his lips took a downward trail, kissing the insides of her thighs before licking a line of her wetness up to her center.

Sansa cried out into her skirts as Jon’s lips kissed her folds, his tongue running through them slowly as though to get reacquainted with her cunt. She spread her legs as far as she could go, her other hand grasped at Jon’s hair as his hands cupped her bottom to keep her steady and up. His tongue ran up and down, gathering her wetness and spreading it all around. She was much more sensitive than before, every lick, every kiss, and every suck made her tremble as pleasure zipped through her nerves at rapid speeds. She was fast approaching her peak sooner than she thought possible.

His tongue probed her entrance, licking around then pushing inside to tongue her spongy walls, rubbing against them to encourage more juices to come forth. Sansa moaned into her clenched hand, fabric muffling it as her other hand mussed Jon’s hair as her fingers tugged and gripped. He responded by slurping up her juices, making wet, gulping noises that only added to her pleasure then his mouth was latching onto her bump. All it took was one long suck to bring her to her peak almost instantly. Her belly leaned down on his head as she leaned forward in white, hot pleasure. Jon’s mouth stayed put, sucking harder and harder, prolonging her peak.

Her world suddenly tumbled as Jon pulled back to catch her, laying her on her cot before his mouth was latched back to her sensitive bump, giving it loving licks from his tongue while his lips closed tightly around it. Sansa couldn’t help the cries that escaped her, she was trying to keep her mouth closed but they wouldn’t stop. Jon pulled back from her cunt, her cry turning desperate as she was at that edge again and so soon, his hand was searching for something then he found her smallclothes.

“Open your mouth,” Jon instructed and as she did he stuffed her smallclothes into her open mouth. He groaned as she closed her lips around the soft silk, moaning behind it. Sansa wasn’t sure how she felt about his action, but her arousal only heightens further so she wasn’t too embarrassed.

Jon smiled lustfully at her then his attentions were back to her cunt, sucking on her bump while two fingers circled her entrance. They pushed inside, mimicking the actions of a cock as they pushed in and out. His fingers were so much better than hers, she thought. The calluses rubbed better against her walls, his reached was longer than hers and his fingers were much, much thicker than her own. Sansa’s hips pushed up against his fingers as he pushed in and out. Her second peak was dancing before her eyes, edging closer and closer to dropping over the cliff. She moaned into her smallclothes, hearing an echo from Jon’s mouth while he abused her poor bump, coaxing it into submission so she could reach her peak.

Suddenly his fingers were curling forward, brushing this spot inside her that sent sharp streaks of pleasure straight down her spine, her cry came out different from the rest when he rubbed it. Jon seemed to notice for he rubbed it once, twice then a third and getting that same cry each time. “Do you like that?” he questioned as he rubbed a slower, harder rub with his fingertips against the spot.

“Oh Gods…” Sansa moaned though it was muffled, tears of pleasure started to leak from her closed eyes.

“Should I continue to rub you there?” he asked almost deviously. Her eyes opened to see a smirk on his lips as he gazed heatedly up at her, she nodded her head abruptly, and moaned harder as he started to rub in short, hard intricate curls of his fingers that pushed her head first into her second peak.

Sansa felt blinded by her pleasure, her nerves crying out as they were overloaded. She had to push hard at Jon for him to realize his attentions were too much now, she was too sensitive that it hurt much more than pleased her. As she breathed hard to come down from such an overload her eyes located Jon on his knees before her, his two fingers covered in her juices being sucked thoroughly in his mouth. She moaned slowly as the sight sent a tingle through her sensitive cunt.

“Are you not horny anymore?” Jon asked cheekily, reaching down to tug her smallclothes from her mouth.

“Not anymore…but don’t go too far, it comes back very often,” Sansa said in soft, sultry voice, watching in amusement as he looked to her with wide, dark eyes and a hard swallow. She glanced down to see his harden cock bugling out from his breeches. “And you?”

“I’ll be fine,” Jon stated quietly, she went to protest when she felt a particularly hard kick in her stomach causing her to call out. “Are you okay?” he immediately asked, looking around her as though he could figure out what pained her.

“I’m fine, it is just the babe kicking,” she clarified, Jon looked down to her belly in shock.

“The babe kicks that hard?” Slowly, almost hesitantly he reached out a hand to lightly palm her pregnant belly.

“Not always, but apparently it’s mother had felt too good.” Sansa reached out to place her hand over top of Jon’s, directing him till the babe kicked again so he could feel it. He jumped at the touch of a little foot pressing against the inside of her stomach, his eyes though.

His eyes glazed over as he stared. It was moments like these, Sansa thought, that made her happy she decided to toss that cup of moon tea out the window. The look of wonder and surprise on Jon’s face was well worth the anxiety of letting him know, even if they could never be together. His reactions were more than worth any sorrow and suffering she was sure to endure once they got back to Winterfell…

Sansa could hardly breath as her mother’s arms squeezed her tightly within her arms, her belly made it difficult to hug, but didn’t hinder them. Tears gathered in her eyes as she clung to her mother. Robb was in the background, talking to Jon as they watched mother and daughter hug. They had reached Robb’s army three days after sleeping in the swamp lands, Sansa was in dire need of a bath, but that didn’t stop Lady Catelyn from holding her. They still had more traveling to be done, Jon intended on taking her back home completely.

“I missed you,” Sansa breathed out with a watery smile as her mother pulled back to cup her cheeks, wiping the tears as her own face glistened.

“I missed you, I thought I would never see you again after…” her mother’s voice cut off in a choke as the thought of her father came to their minds. After Eddard Stark’s execution it was all up in the air on what could happen to Sansa, she knew. She didn’t miss the widen eyes of her brother and mother when she was helped down from the horse. She clutched Jon’s hand tightly, nervous to see what they would say.

Robb merely commented that she was as big as Winterfell, jokingly of course, before hugging her. Catelyn Stark gazed hard at her belly before she embraced Sansa, she knew her mother didn’t like that she was pregnant. It didn’t take a genius to know that they suspected it was Joffrey’s babe inside her. That was the whole idea though. No one would suspect the truth. No one would think otherwise, though Sansa would know different, Jon would know different.

“Well, you are here now. You must have had a very long journey, we expected you days ago,” Catelyn commented as she led Sansa away. Her uncle had mentioned finally marrying; a Frey woman named Roslin, for an alliance with the Frey’s. They were currently at the Twins now, taking in the hospitality while Robb led his army through.

Sansa took one last glance back at Jon before her mother ushered her away. Her bath was everything she wanted and more, a new dress and under things to wear afterwards and the chance to finally sit down on something that didn’t move constantly, or the ground was a blessing she hadn’t realized she needed. Her mother was with her every step of the way, telling her about her brothers back at Winterfell and everything in between. She learned that Arya was helping Robb, sneaking around and learning secrets for him. Sansa couldn’t say she was surprised, her little sister was a sneaky one, fast on her feet. All she wanted was to hug her too, but she was currently away on a mission for Robb.

Her mother asked how things were in King’s Landing when they arrived, essentially asking her how things had gone so terribly in the end. Sansa did her best to relay everything that happened, during that part of their discussion Robb and Jon entered the small chambers that would be hers for the time being. They all listened as she spoke, she tried to remember everything perfectly as she could, tried to make sure every detail was right when she reiterated the last six months. Sansa could see her mother was holding her emotions back, hiding her anguish as to not worry anyone, she needed to stay strong and to be seen as such. Robb’s face was stern, his hands though told a different story, they were clenched so hard that she could make out the veins in his hand and up his forearm were bugling as he listened.

Jon looked solemn though there was an edge of anger underneath, much like her mother, he kept his emotions in check, especially when Sansa mentioned the threats Joffrey placed upon her and her child. At the end she was in near tears, telling them she wished father had confined in her, told her more of what he suspected and relied on her for help. She wondered if her father would be alive if she could have done something more, been of help for him.

“Maybe if father talked to me, I could have helped, I could have been useful,” Sansa muttered sadly, wiping away at her eyes to keep her tears from falling. She felt her mother’s hand give hers a squeeze.

“You couldn’t have done more than he could. Ned was in a high position of power, even if he told you anything it would have placed you in more danger for having that knowledge,” Catelyn assured her, glancing over to Robb who nodded his head in agreement.

“What do you plan on doing now?” Sansa asked softly, staring at her older brother thoughtfully.

“The North is still after independence, but now that you’re here safely we can push forward and claim the throne,” Robb announced with his tone full of pride. Sansa felt confused as she took in his words. Claim the throne?

“What do you mean claim the throne?” Robb frowned at her question then turned to Jon in confusion as well.

“Did you not tell her yet?” Jon opened his mouth, looking at a loss.

“Tell me what?!” Sansa asked as anger prickled inside her, what more was she not told? What hadn’t Jon said to her? She fixed her hard stare on his face as he rubbed a hand over his eyes.

“I didn’t have time to tell you once we were leaving the Red Keep and then I just wasn’t sure when to tell you,” he explained, dropping his hand to bore his stare into her eyes. “Two moons ago I sent Samwell Tarly to Oldtown to become a maester since Maester Aemon is getting up in age. There he found some information in regards to…to my birth.”

“What do you mean? You know who your mother is then?” Sansa glanced over at her mother, knowing how much this particular topic rubbed her the wrong way though surprisingly she looked rather calm. There wasn’t even a hint of annoyance underneath the hard edges of her face. It was odd, she thought, her mother had always been put off by the mere mention of Jon’s birth.

“Yes, but also my…my real father as well,” Jon mumbled lowly, bracing his elbows on his knees as he clasped his hands together, his lips pursed together firmly. Sansa shook her head, confusion written plainly on her face, she was sure. “My father wasn’t the Stark, my mother was. Lyanna Stark is my mother and Rhaegar Targaryen is my father.”

It was like a cold splash of water dunked on top of her head. She blinked rapidly as she absorbed the information given to her. Rhaegar Targaryen, the man who ‘kidnapped’ their father’s sister had apparently raped her, and she had given birth to…Jon. Sansa felt a bit dizzy, releasing her mother’s hand to massage her temple. Jon looked weary as he watched her, waiting for a verbal reaction to her words, she figured.

“So, you’re Lyanna Stark’s bastard?” Sansa asked the question lightly, hating to call him a bastard.

“Actually no,” Robb said abruptly, smiling though it was obvious everyone could feel the tension in the air. “Apparently Rhaegar annulled his marriage to Elia Martell and wed our Aunt Lyanna, so he’s technically not a bastard at all.”

“He’s the heir to the throne,” her mother finally spoke up and said. Jon swallowed hard, his eyes dropping to the floor. She could tell he didn’t care, she could see that he didn’t want the throne. Sansa could only imagine the pain and confusion he had gone through when he found out. Thinking about it, she remembered the many moments of him looking lost as he led their horse, or when he was standing watch outside her tent. Why hadn’t he told her sooner?

“I don’t want the throne,” Jon stated darkly, finally looking up to glance at the three of them. “My fa…Rhaegar’s sister, Daenerys is coming from Essos with an army to join Robb’s. If we help her gain the Iron Throne, then she will allow the North its independence.”

“It’s your birth right though,” Robb argued, frowning at his brother-his cousin. Sansa felt her eyes widen again as her hand dropped to her belly, Jon wasn’t her half-brother, he was her cousin which is not a sin to be with, to marry.

“I’m not like her then…” Sansa mumbled to herself though she must have said it louder than she thought for her mother stared at her hard.

“You are not like who?” Catelyn asked then followed the way Sansa rubbed her belly. Her mother had a contemplating expression on her face before she turned and looked hard at Jon who flinched away from her stare immediately. “Is there something you both should be telling us?”

“Mother…I…” Sansa felt at a loss for words, it was one thing to tell Jon of her decision, but another to tell her mother and her brother of what they had done, especially when she thought they were siblings.

“Is that child Joffrey Baratheon’s?” Catelyn demanded, standing up as she glared at Jon heatedly. Sansa quickly followed, moving to stand before her mother.

“No,” she answered, never looking away from her mother’s eyes, hoping she would understand, hoping she would bother to listen. “I am in love with Jon,” she announced into the quiet room, stepping back from her mother so she could see Robb’s face as well. He looked mildly disgusted as he glanced between the both of them, there was also an undercurrent of anger as he stood up as well. His glare directed on Jon now.

“You slept with your sister!” Robb accused, reaching for his sword that wasn’t there before clenching his fists tightly. He looked ready to charge Jon. Sansa stepped back even more till her back hit his chest, placing her in front of him as a shield from her brother.

“I slept with him, I pushed him into it first, so if you must be angry with anyone then it will with me,” she declared, her tone harsh and hard. Her mother looked disappointed, her eyes sad as she took her in again. Her pregnant belly seeming even more different than it had before. “I am the one who decided to keep the baby, not Jon. If I was going to spend the rest of my life in a loveless, abusive marriage then I wanted a piece of him with me at least. I know it was wrong, but it should not matter anymore. Jon isn’t my brother, he’s my cousin and with the babe not being Joffrey’s then my marriage to him can be annulled.”

No one said anything, the room was quiet as they all considered her words. Sansa knew it wouldn’t make things instantly better, she knew her mother would not forgive her so quickly, or easily, but she would eventually. Just like Robb would forgive her and Jon eventually. Those were the consequences of her decision, but she didn’t care. All her life she had been told how to act, how to behave and who she would be, not who she wanted to be. Sansa may love sewing, she may love lemon cakes with tea, and long walks while on the arm of a handsome young man, and she may enjoy all things that ladies enjoyed and liked, but that did not mean she liked her life being decided for her. She may not have fought against it so hard like her sister had, but it didn’t mean that she didn’t wish to make her own decisions, to be her own person.

Allowing Jon’s seed to quicken in her womb and produce the babe in her belly was one of her decisions that she truly wanted. Being with Jon was another, one that before all this would forever be a memory as she held their child in her arms. Now she had a chance to be with him, to be a family and she wasn’t going to let her mother and brother stand in her way. She thought once that she wasn’t going to let anything stand in her way when she went to Jon that night so long ago in Castle Black, she wasn’t about to let that happen now.

“I am not happy about this, Sansa,” Catelyn started, her arms crossing over her chest as she glanced between her and Jon. “But it does make things less complicated, not better per-say, but less of a hinderance.” Robb still looked angry, still looked ready to choke Jon to death. Her mother quickly departed, Sansa knew she needed time alone to truly consider everything. She didn’t have hopeful thoughts that she would forgive her so soon, she maybe her eldest daughter, but she wasn’t Robb. She could forgive Robb far quicker than she could forgive her.

“Your sister, Jon,” Robb mumbled, his brow finally letting up from anger to despair. He ran a hand through his hair as he turned away from them. “I don’t understand how…how feelings like that can happen between you two! I thought you hated Jon, Sansa?” her brother spun around and asked. Sansa could only shrug her shoulders.

“I never hated Jon…I just never considered him….as my brother, and so feelings just…happened. I don’t know what more I could say, I know I love him though.” Sansa felt Jon’s hands come around her body to cradle her against his chest more firmly, his hands coming around to rest on her belly. Robb watched the interaction between them, still confused, still not able to understand, but he seemed even less angry.

“I love her, Robb. I know it was wrong, it’s why I went to Castle Black, to distance myself from her, but…I can’t stop loving her, it’s like you and Jeyne,” Jon said in explanation, a flutter of happiness erupted inside her chest at his words, her hands came down on top of his face.

“No! Don’t you say what Jeyne and I have is the same as you,” Robb exploded, glaring at the both of him now.

“No, it’s different. Jon and I made love the first time we were together, you had a drunken night of sex with Jeyne and had to marry her for her honor. You may love her, or are beginning to love her, but that doesn’t mean what Jon and I have isn’t similar.” Robb looked ashamed as Sansa brought up the details of his marriage. Jeyne Westerling was from a lower house, she should never had married into their house as she had done, but only because Robb had gotten drunk with Theon while out negotiating with the Frey’s.

As Sansa remembered it, Robb was supposed to marry one of Walder Frey’s daughters and instead it seems her uncle did the deed.

“Neither of us are innocent of sin, Robb, but are you not happy now?” Sansa inquired softly, pushing Jon’s hands off her to approach her brother. “Robb?”

“Yes, I am happy,” he answered, letting her wrap her arms around his chest to embrace him. He hesitated before slowly wrapping his arms around her back, dropping his face into her shoulder as they held each other.

“I am happy too, I’m not asking you to be okay with us, but I am asking you to respect our decision even if it was wrong as we had respected your decision even though it was wrong.”

Robb kept his mouth closed, but he nodded into her shoulder. He eventually mumbled about loving her and wishing only for the best for her, even if that meant Jon being the best for her. Sansa knew it would take time for Robb to come around with them, she knew she just estranged him from Jon, but she also knew that Robb was quicker to put things behind him. He would regard Jon as his brother again soon, much sooner than her mother would forgive her. She didn’t even bother to wonder if she would forgive Jon, it was a given that she never would.

That was okay though, Sansa was her own woman and she didn’t need her mother deciding things for her any longer…

“I really wish you had not said anything,” Jon mumbled into her back. Sansa was tired from all the emotions and the travelling, once Robb left them she dragged Jon with her to curl up on her bed. He had been so quiet she thought maybe he had fallen asleep, but no, he brooding into her neck instead.

“I didn’t mean to, at first, but honestly it’s much better out in the open,” she answered tiredly then frowned as she remembered what previously took place. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Jon sighed deeply, he moved her hair out of the way, so his lips brushed the back of her neck as his legs curled into her body. His hand laid on her belly, thumb lightly brushing back and forth.

“I didn’t want to say it out loud, the more I say Eddard Stark is not my father then the more real it becomes. I was confused, I felt lost. Being Eddard Stark’s bastard has been my whole identity, I’ve had it far better than most bastards. All my life I wanted to be Jon Stark, a trueborn son of Eddard Stark. Before, that dream seemed at least a little achievable and now…now that will never happen…it was hard to think, Sansa, even harder to put into words and tell you...” His voice was solemn as he spoke, Sansa closed her eyes as she felt her eyes water in sympathy then the idea came to her, maybe she couldn’t bring him ease of knowing her father wasn’t his, but she could give him something else he wanted.

“You still can be.” Jon grunted, mumbling disbelieving words into her skin. “No, seriously! Once I can get my marriage annulled then we…we can marry, but instead you can take my name.” Jon pulled back, so he could lean over her shoulder to peer down at her eyes.

“Is that even possible?” He questioned, eyebrow arched up.

“Yes, if my house name is worth more than yours, to which it is, my dear Snow.” Jon flinched at his last name, but nodded his understanding. He dropped back down behind her, mumbling he was tired. Sansa mumbled her agreement and promptly fell asleep in his arms…

Sansa woke to Jon’s lips kissing the back of her neck softly, his hand on her belly moving in loving caresses as she felt his hard erection in her backside. She smiled as felt him shift his hips closer to her, giving a small thrust to relieve his hard ache. She was feeling rather aroused as well, pushing her bottom back to meet his low thrust. Jon groaned into her neck, his teeth biting down lightly to make her moan. She reached behind her to comb her fingers through his hair, gripping at the strands as she pushed back to meet his hips.

“We shouldn’t…” Jon mumbled sleepily though that didn’t stop him from continuing to press his hips into her bottom.

“We should,” Sansa muttered back, moaning deeper as his teeth bit down harder, most likely leaving a mark behind.

“I don’t want to hurt the babe,” he repeated the same explanation from three days earlier.

“You won’t, Jon, please I’m horny.” He chuckled deeply.

“If you are sure.” Sansa smiled in victory as he pushed himself up to lean over her shoulder, she mumbled into his lips that she was, kissing his own smile into hers.

His tongue swept into her mouth leisurely, tangling with hers then brushing the corners of her mouth. Sansa pressed up as she angled her head towards the left, slipping her tongue along his and forcing it back into his mouth with hers. Their tongues wrestled as Jon leaned further over her, putting pressure on her belly that was starting to make her uncomfortable. She pulled back from his lips then pressed a hand against his chest to force him up, Jon seemed disappointed as he followed her silent plea. With some strength she forced him down onto his back before she straddled his hips, pressing her heated cunt against his hard cock.

They both groaned at the touch then she was bending down as Jon arched up till their lips met once more. It was easier with her on top, pressing down on him was less uncomfortable on her stomach than him leaning into it. Slowly Jon started to rut against her, thrusting his cock into her clothed cunt, creating a friction that vibrated pleasure through both of them. Sansa moaned into his mouth, curling her hand back into his hair while she started to grind against his thrusts, doubling their pleasure.

“I want to try something different,” Sansa mumbled after a few more thrusts, her wetness soaking through her smallclothes as she thought about what she wanted to do. With Jon’s help she got up, working at the laces of her dress while he quickly tore his clothes off as well.

She was a bit nervous, this would be the first time he had seen her nude since Castle Black, it would be the first time he seen her new shape, see how pregnancy changed her. There were times she would look in the mirror naked and just stare at her belly, she wondered if she would go back to her slim figure again. Her mother lost the baby weight quickly, slimming back down only a few moons after each birth, but Cersei had told her how hard her last pregnancy was with Tommen, how the weight was harder to take off and left horrible lines on her stomach. Sansa never seen those marks, but by the way the older woman complained about them, she could only imagine how horrible they were, made her fearful of what her body would look like after she gave birth.

“Sansa,” Jon called out, watching her carefully as he waited for her to drop her shift. She swallowed around a hard lump in her throat as she held the shift to her body, she could see the concern in his eyes.

“I don’t look the same,” she finally mumbled, her insecurity making her cling to her shift more. Not only had her belly grown larger with child, but her breasts had grown more swollen, larger than she thought possible. Though that had pleased Joffrey when he would come in on her while bathing, or changing. She may have been able to keep him from bedding her, but that didn’t stop him from looking, from touching. Sansa held back a shudder at the thought of him, he didn’t matter anymore, only Jon.

Jon frowned at her words, pushing up from the bed to stand before her. His hands reached out to lightly comb through her hair then cupping her cheek. “No, you look like a woman, you look like you are with child, you look beautiful, Sansa. No matter what shape your body changes to,” Jon assured her sweetly, leaning forward to press a soft, tantalizing kiss to her lips. He wiped away a tear that escaped one of her eyes.

Sansa nodded to his words, relief blossoming from her chest as she pushed the straps of her shift down her body till she was dressed in nothing but her own skin. Jon stepped back to take her in, his loving gaze leaving scorching heat behind as they traveled down her swollen breasts, pregnant belly and long legs. He brought his eyes back up to hers, mumbling, “beautiful,” before pressing a kiss into her cheek.

“Beautiful,” he said then kissed her jaw. “Beautiful.” He kissed down the column of her neck. “Beautiful.” Pressing more kisses while nibbling on her collarbone, his lips traveling down to kiss the tip of her breast where her nipple crinkled at his attention. “Beautiful.” Then he was taking the pink peak into his mouth, sucking the bud tightly within his warm, wet mouth. His tongue circled around her nipple, lovingly rubbing over top of it before releasing it. “Beautiful.” He gave her other breast the same treatment, only difference being he bit her left nipple causing a moan to escape her lips.

Jon kept whispering ‘beautiful’ after each and every kiss he littered upon her body, giving a lot of attention to her belly where their babe lie inside. He gave even more attention when it came to her cunt, it brought back previous thoughts of when he first kissed her down there. Sansa giggled inside as she thought again, did he not eat? He seemed famished as he devoured her juices, forcing her folds apart so he could tongue her entrance for more. She bit her lip as he mouthed her wet flesh, still mumbling ‘beautiful’ into her skin as he swallowed her wetness.

She could feel her peak coming, but that wasn’t what she wanted so she pushed his head back, forcing him to dislodge his questing tongue. Jon smiled up at her, his beard wet from his attentions. Her arousal spiked at the sight, she needed him now, she needed him inside her now! Sansa turned around to crawl onto the bed then stayed there, on her hands and knees as she glanced over her shoulder. Jon looked between the view she provided and her eyes, he opened his mouth as though to ask for her assurance to which she smiled brightly and nodded.

He wasted no time in getting behind her, leaning over her body with his chest brushing her back as he touched her hanging breasts lightly then skimming his fingers down to graze her belly. Sansa was so horny she felt she could explode, his touches were ten-times more potent than before. His cock brushed through the hair on her mound as he touched her body, she pushed back against him, pressing her bottom into his hips. “Please,” she whimpered, pressing again.

The head of his cock pressing into her lips gave her a jolt of pleasure. He was pushing his cock’s head into her folds then back out of them, coating them in her juices while bumping against her bundle of nerves on each go. The moans escaping her lips echoed around them as he answered with his groans. It was sweet torture, the slow push and pull, the almost sweet touches of his cock’s head kissing her bump. So, it was a shock to her system when he suddenly slid his cock inside her without warning.

Sansa cried out, dropping her face into a pillow as Jon pulled almost all the way out then plunged back into her waiting body. For someone who was worried about hurting the babe, he was thrusting mighty hard, she thought briefly though she didn’t mind. The harder, the better, she was in great need of his cock, of the pleasure only he could provide her. It was punishing the way his thrusts forced his cock into her, the way his cock rubbed hard against that spot inside her he found a few nights ago. It felt so good, so intense. She wasn’t sure if her pregnancy made it more pleasurable because she was so sensitive, or if it was the position they were in. Sansa figured they could always figure it out along the way.

The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room with accents of moans. Anyone passing back the door would know exactly what was going on within. Sansa smiled into her pillow, moaning louder as Jon gripped her hips to force them back against his meeting thrusts. Her peak was just upon her, edging closer and closer as she met each hard thrust of his, each rub of his cock on that spot. She was writhing as he worked, tears leaking from her eyes in pleasure as her body singed. She needed this, she needed him so badly.

The jolt of pleasure slammed against her, her peak exploding throughout her body as Jon kept his reckless thrusting, edging closer to his peak as well. She could feel how tight she had gotten; how much harder it was for him to thrust into her when her body refused to let him pull back out. Jon groaned her name loudly as he reached his end leaning down heavily on her back before letting them fall to the side. She could feel his cock still inside her, still gripped tightly by her walls though he was softening slowly. Sansa sighed deeply, smiling as his arms wrapped around her.

“I love you,” Jon mumbled into her neck, pressing a kiss there.

“I love you,” Sansa echoed, intertwining one of her hands with his as she felt suddenly tired.

Tears welled in her eyes as she thought about the possible future they had now, a future where they could marry and be husband and wife, where she didn’t have to lie about her child’s father. It was a beautiful future, it would not be an easy one, she knew, she wasn’t delusional enough to believe things will be perfect like a song, but they would be close enough. It would be even better actually, Sansa thought, they would be real, they would be hers. She could feel Jon smile into her neck.

It wasn’t an easy path she took, but it was the best out of a bad situation. It was thin line she crossed, so thin that it was hard to stay within, to stay afloat, but she did. She made her choices and though they had some bad consequences, all in all…she liked the ending the most. The journey was hard, but to make it here with Jon holding her and their babe growing strong inside her, it was well worth it.

Some things really are worth the risk…

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it seems like there could be more for this, and yes, there could be, but I am tired and bogged down with schoolwork and finals so I hope this satisfied y'all plenty! I am very happy with how this series of oneshots for JonsaSmutWeek came out and I am so thankful and happy for all the kudos and reviews I received! It means the world to me that so many people enjoy my writing, that I can bring a bit of happiness to others by my words alone. This was a fun challenge, hard at times, but so much fun to do and to force the creative juices to work! Thank you for reading my works and my smutty, kinky sex scenes! The most smut I have ever written! EVER!! 
> 
> Thank you!! ^_~


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